Fiesta ng Cavite

Kapag nababanggit ang piyesta ng Cavite City, ang unang pumapasok sa isip ng mga Kabitenyo ay ang Nuestra Señora de la Soledad de Porta Vaga. Ang imahen ay matatagpuan sa simbahan ng San Roque.

Punung puno ang paligid ng simbahan kapag ganitong piyesta. Dumarating ang mga debotong Kabitenyo at pati na rin yung mga galing sa malalayong lugar. Sabi nga ng nanay ko na nasa Amerika na ngayon, nami-miss niya daw ang kanyang novena sa Reina ng Kabite.

Tradisyun na para sa mga Kabitenyo ang dumalo sa concelebrated mass na nagsisimula ng 9:30 am. Maraming pari ang nagmimisa at minsan pa ay kasama ang Arsobispo ng Diocese of Imus na sumasakop sa Cavite City. Pagkatapos ng misa, pumipila ang mga tao sa imahen ng Nuestra Señora de la Soledad de Porta Vaga, nananalangin, humihingi ng pabor o dispensa, o simpleng tumutupad sa panata.

Napakahirap lumabas-masok sa simbahan kapag piyesta. Bukod sa pagdagsa ng tao, marami ding vendors na nagtitinda ng kung anu-ano sa harap ng simbahan. Idagdag pa yung mga jeep na nag-aabang ng pasahero. Talagang parang standstill ang harapan ng simbahan kapag piyesta.

(Nang kunan ni Karla ang mga litratong ito, matagal nang tapos ang misa. Maluwag na ang kalye sa lagay na yan).

Dati-rati, naghahanda ang nanay ko tuwing piyesta. Hindi ko na maalala ang mga putaheng hinahanda niya, pero sigurado akong laging may ube at leche flan. Minsan may macapuno at fruit salad. Minsan magdadala pa ng pagkain ang mga bisitang namimiyesta.

Pagkatapos kumain, mag-aayaya ang lola ko na dumalaw sa iba pang mga kamag-anak. Kakain na naman doon. Bawat bahay na pupuntahan kapag piyesta ay magpapakain kaya dapat mag-iwan ng lugar sa tiyan para sa lahat ng kakainan.

Ngayon, nakikipiyesta na lang kami kasi karamihan ng mga malalapit naming kamag-anak ay nagsipag-abroad na, pati na ang nanay ko na dating punong abala tuwing piyesta. Ang pinuntahan namin ngayon ay si Auntie Linda na aming kapitbahay. May handa silang hipon, friend chicken, dinuguan, mixed veggies, tahong na may salsa (adobo kaya yon?), atsara, potato salad, macaroni salad, fruit salad, at ube. Pinagsaluhan namin ang masarap nilang handa, at pati na rin ang kwentuhan at balitaan tungkol sa mga anak niyang nasa Amerika na rin.

Bisperas ng Piyesta

Lights are ablaze in Cavite City as it celebrates the feast of Nuestra Senora de la Soledad de Porta Vaga, which falls on the second Sunday of November.

When we were kids, and even when we had kids of our own, one of the highlights of fiesta celebration would be the trip to the
chubibo or the karnabal on the eve of the actual fiesta. The rides and games used to located in the land where the new San Sebastian Campus now stands, and going there was a big deal. Our cousins and later nieces even came to spend the night in Cavite just for that.

These past years, the chubibo has made a home out of the space fronting the market. There are three chubibos (a term which I think really refers to the ferris wheel) , plus the usual caterpillar, a mini-roller coaster, and merry-go-round.

"Take me down memory lane," my daughter said, so we went around the karnabal area and even rode on the Horror Train (after which we could only say, "Harang!" but I will leave that story for later).

Meantime, there was a strong police presence all around the chubibo area which made for safe and secure carnival riding.

Cavite City Fiesta

These last two months of the year are the most festive times in Cavite City. "Alegreng alegre alla" (Very happy there!) is what people would say.

That's because after All Saints' Day comes the feast of Nuestra Señora de la Soledad de Porta Vaga, patroness of Cavite City. For Caviteño families, these are occasions for bonding and for returning to the hometown, especially with the Christmas spirit hanging in the air.

As I've written before, Ñora Soledad holds a special place in the lives of Cavite families like ours.



For devout followers of Nuestra Señora de la Soledad who are far away, you might want to visit a site put up in her honor here.

All Saints' Day Nostalgia

Seeing all those reminders of a family's past, like Filipinos do every All Saints' Day, gets people thinking about their forefathers and foremothers, who were they, what were they like in life, and all those things.

Darth Amelie had those kinds of musings when she visited her grandfather's grave in Noveleta, Cavite. Read her entry here.


In Cavite City, this is one occasion when you still hear a lot of Chabacano spoken. No masyao mucho el genti, some people said. (Yes, it seemed like there weren't as many people as in previous years). There was still a throng of course, but other signs of an overflow crowd were not evident. Not too many policemen, marshalls or tanods, and no provisions even for portalets.

Used to be, going to the panchong on All Saints' Day was a big production. Family members bought lots of flowers and candles, packed tons of food and drinks, thought of things with which to occupy kids' attention, and once there, chit-chatted with an assortment of friends, relatives and acquaintances.

There was only a handful of us this year, and no little children. The kids have grown and somehow found ways to keep themselves busy. No one packed food or drinks because those could easily be bought at the stalls.

Some friends and relatives passed by our space in the cemetery, the kinds of people you see only once a year, most likely only during All Saints' Day. We rarely see them so we lose track of what has happened to them over the months.

Take this conversation between my uncle and his second (or third?) cousin.

Bobby: Hi Danny, Quetal? Donde esta tu mujer? (Hi Danny. How are you? Where is your wife?)

Danny (with big grin): Talla, muerto ya. Ya bisita nga yo eh. (She's there. I visited her in her gravesite. She passed away already).

Bobby: Cuando lang? (Just recently?)

Danny: Esti June lang. (Just last June).

Some people even forget how we look. Norma, the recently-widowed part-time masseuse/part-time the memorial plan agent, was talking to my uncle who was next to me, and saying, "Bobby, pag nakita mo yung pamangkin mo, sabihin mo nasa akin ang resibo ng St Peter niya." (Bobby, when you see your niece, tell her I have her St Peter receipt). She didn't realize I was right there. Or have I become so unrecognizable after gaining weight? Seeing people from way back makes you think about these things.








There may not have been a big Todos Los Santos crowd as in previous years, but the Libingan Panglusod ng Kabite (Cavite City Cemetery) where we go every year would still remind visitors of a tiangge, a flea market. That's what crossed my daughter's mind when she saw the crowd as well as the stalls set up at the center of the cemetery road.

By nightfall, the stalls were doing brisk business, thanks to the light provided by the city government. So if you happened to be sitting on the bench in our space at the panchong, you'd be seeing this view of the road and the stalls:

and then this view of the tombs of my grandfather and other relatives:


Empty benches now are where we used to squeeze ourselves in in years past. There used to be no place at all to sit and family members had to bring their own plastic or foldable chairs. So nuay masyao mucho genti (not too many people) because people move, migrate and have other gravesites to visit, or maybe because of the rising price of gasoline. I wonder what it will be like next year? Same old, same old?


(photos by Karla)

Hometown Cavite

Cavite City is my family's hometown, but like many of us who have moved and moved on, I view it with a mixture of fondness and dread.

Fondness because it's where our roots lie, where my maternal grandparents and all their children were born, where my parents first met and fell and in love, where they have a home, and where many memories (good and bad) are stored. But dread because each time I think of Cavite, I think of the obligations that I inherited from parents and siblings who have left and actually left me behind, some of which require me to visit the city every so often.

Part of the dread of visiting Cavite is the fear of traffic which I have written about a lot in this blog. On a recent Sunday visit, lo and behold, there was traffic no more (yeah, right)!

Perhaps it was because we left Metro Manila at the crack of dawn that travel was a breeze. I saw that the construction of the coastal road extension was in full swing and that a strip of reclaimed land was already jutting out from Coastal Road as it bends toward Bacoor. (A reality check from my son: he says construction has been in full swing for ages).

We were in the Covelandia area by six a.m. and that's where we hit a traffic snag, a minor one at that time of day. Road repairs were ongoing and traffic was one-way, which means vehicles on one side of the road had to stop while those on the other side were let through because the highway had turned into a one-lane affair.

Still, because it was an early morning travel, the air was cool and there weren't too many cars on the road. But the Binakayan mini-traffic was enough to remind me not to linger in Cavite if I wanted to be back in Manila by sundown with time and energy left to prepare for the week ahead and the pressures of earning a living.

And once I reach Cavite City market, the realization never fails to hit me: Change is slow in coming to Cavite City. It looks the same way it did years ago, with the exception of the old market having been demolished and the new one pushed back away from the main road.

Carlos Drug is still there, the baby buses are still there (they haven't grown up!) and some of the old stores we remember from long ago still stand. Copena's, Zelcor's, 96 Bazaar.

Time must have stopped in Cavite, probably around the 1960s when Sangley Point the American Base was nearing shutdown and about to be turned over to the Philippine government as Sangley Point the Philippine Naval Base.

In fact, I have this nagging feeling Cavite City looks like Havana, Cuba. No, I haven't been there but I've seen images of it in movies, specifically from the documentary about the Buena Vista Social Club, the band of world-acclaimed aging Cuban musicians. In that documentary, I saw old buildings made of wood and cement, their pillars touching the streets, storefronts on the ground floor pushed back in. Exactly like those of the 1960s. Like those in Cavite.

I have no problems with time stopping in Cavite. At least I don't get disoriented when I visit. Its appearance reinforces Cavite's role in my memory as a thing of the past. I just sometimes wish Cavite had wifi and DSL connections so that maybe next time I can take my work home with me to Cavite and not feel the need to rush back.

"From San Francisco, Goodbye!"

Daly City, California--The San Francisco Giants are playing the Oakland Athletics on TV as I pack my bags for my trip back home to Manila tomorrow. A long drawn out game that started before sundown, it went into an extra inning, with the Giants eventually losing out to the A's.

I am not a baseball fan in the same way my friend Wella is a follower of the Oakland A's. But I practically got treated to a despedida of baseball because, as usual, I had tons of stuff to squeeze into my two maletas and my carry-on bags and I had to do it in my parents' living room. Chocolates, T-shirts, books are scattered and cluttered in front of the TV set which was tuned in to my parents' favorite TV sport, baseball.

While I was packing and while Giants star player Barry Bonds was getting TV mileage, my aunt Gigi called my mom from her home in Milpitas.

Aunt: Ya llama Ruby. Di ritira ya rin pala eli ora (Ruby called. Turns out she's going home today).

Mom: Ha? No eli ya talda aqui (What? She didn' t stay long)?

Aunt: No, five weeks lang eli aqui. Ora daw di ritira (No, she stayed only five weeks. She's leaving today).

Mom: Sana mañana ya lang para junto ilo di Gina (She could have gone home with Gina tomorrow).

Aunt: Cosa ta haci Gina (What is Gina doing)?

Mom: Ta qui. Ta ci empake aquel dos maleta (She's here. She's packing her luggage).

Aunt: Pirmi ya lang ansina, ta ci siksik todo (It happens everytime, her squeezing her stuff into her luggage).

Mom: Alli lang buso mañana (Are you staying home tomorrow)?

Aunt: Di ci babysit Dale mañana cun Marcos kasi tiene fundraising sana Leslee y Alyssa. Ta cumbida comigo kasi tiene daw silent auction. No ma niso di pudi anda na airport ha, kasi di pinta casa esti mi marido (Dale's babysitting Marcos because Leslee and Alyssa have a fundraising event. They invited me to this silent auction. We won't be able go to the airport because my husband has to paint the house).

By the time the Giants-A's game ends at 11 pm, I am packed (at least that's what it looks like). There are little bits and pieces of pasalubong and personal things lying around which I'm sure I will forget. I'd like to take everything home, but that's not always possible.

Anyway, the game ends with the sportscaster's farewell, "From San Francisco, goodbye!" My own farewell: "San Francisco, till next time!"

Chabacano in California-2

Concord, California--I am hearing Chabacano spoken again in, of all places, California, where some members of our family are based.

Over lunch at the newly renovated home of my cousin Leni in Concord, we partook of a typical Filipino lunch, which meant an overloading of food to eat and to take home.

We were celebrating the birthday of my cousin's wife Leslee, and noodles for long life were a must. The pancit was homemade, even if the rest of the food was ordered out, and it became the subject of a conversation between my mother and aunt, snippets of which went this way:

- Tu ya cusi este pancit (You cooked the pancit)?
- Si, yo ya cusi esi (Yes, I cooked it).
- Sabroso (It's delicious)!
- Saca pa tu (Get some more)!

You'd have to be alert to catch the Chabacano conversation which came in bits and pieces, as when my aunt said, "Ta duli ya mi ditras (my back is hurting)," or "Quiereng quiere esi con su lolo (He loves his grandfather so much), referring to her grandson. It came naturally for my mother and aunt to speak the language and, sad to say, I failed to take mental notes, because it seemed like the most natural thing for them to do, I forgot to listen intently.

Anyway, this is my way of resuming blog posts, which I have been remiss in writing since leaving Manila two weeks ago. Apologies for the long break, but I am with native Chabacano speakers, which means more blog entries, hopefully.

Elections In Cavite-1 (Or Conversations with my Grandmother)

My grandmother has always voted in Cavite City, even if she no longer lives there. Each election day, she wakes up early to be among the first to cast her vote at the Garita Elementary School (photo at right) in what is known as Cavite's Rosario district.

She makes the effort although she is 94 going on 95, and her arthritic hands can barely fill in all the blanks.

I asked her how election day was for her, and of course, her replies were mostly in Chabacano:

My Grandmother (MG): Temprano yo ya anda na Cavite. Ya kumbida Lauring con niso alla ya lang daw almusa. Al llegando alla, que mucho genti. Mucho ya atraca comigo, hija daw de si quien. No ma yo ta conoci. Muchong mucho genti, kalat na kalat, ta lluvi de papel. Pobre naman ilo si no gana (I went to Cavite early. Lauring [my niece] invited me to have breakfast at her place. There were so many people approaching me, children of whoever, I don't know them anymore. There were so many people, so much trash everywhere, it rained paper. What a waste if they didn't win).

Me: Ya escribi tu plojo (You wrote slowly)?

MG: Plojong plojo yo. Ya haci yo claro para pudi ilo le (Very slowly. I tried to make it clear so they could read it).

Me: Con quien tu ya vota (Whom did you vote for)?

MG: Con Aquino siyempre Diyes nombre lang. No hay kasi ta habla comigo si quien pa (For Aquino, of course. Just ten names. No one told me who else to vote for).

Me: Con quien pa tu ya vota (Who else did you vote for)?

MG: Con Lacson din. De Imus aquel. El tata no se de Imus. Paredes pa rin di gana. Recio pa rin no se eli alla. Pero bueno kaya quel? (For Lacson also. He's from Imus. I think his father is from Imus. Paredes [mayoralty candidate] will win. He's still strong. Is he a good mayor?)

Me: Ewan ko (I don't know).

Conversations with my Uncle

There are only two people in this world who still speak to me in Chabacano. One of them is my 95-year-old maternal grandmother, the other is her eldest son, my Uncle Luis, who is turning 72 in a few months.

My uncle is hearing-impaired and has to wear hearing devices in both ears, which means he can hear well when he has them on, something which we often forget. This is why we tend to talk about him when he's around (as though he couldn't hear us), or we take to raising our voices which we eventually realize is an unnecessary effort since his hearing is normal with the hearing aids on.

Conversations with him center mostly on news about his Cavite High School reunions, or about who among classmates, friends or relatives have passed away. Often, the talk strays to things we all know about, sort of like a recitation of family facts.

One such conversation ran this way, with my husband Boyette butting in:

Uncle Luis: Ya muri quel mi co-graduate Ben, esti Domingo lang. Ta ci nood lang daw boxing na TV, ya ma atake ya. (My co-graduate Ben died last Sunday while watching a boxing match on TV)

Boyette: Bakit di mo kuhanan ng blood pressure si Uncle Luis, baka mamaya high blood yan. (Why don't you take Uncle Luis' blood pressure. He might have high blood himself.)

Me: Wala siyang high blood. Ang payat payat niya eh. (He doesn't have high blood. He's too thin.)

Uncle Luis: No, yo nuay high blood. Aquel mi classmate, tiene. Ung dia ya susta ya lang niso inchao el cara di eli. Aquel pala tiene high blood. (No, I don't have high blood. My classmate did. One day we were surprised to see his face swollen. Turns out he had high blood.)

Me: Inatake dahil sa boxing? (He had an attack because of the boxing?)

Uncle Luis: Oo. Siguro ta mira eli quel laban di Boom Boom Bautista. Eh ya gana. Ya ma atake ya. Amigong amigo di Boy aquel Ben. El mujer di eli classmate di Mommy. Ben 73 ya. El mujer di eli 72, mas vieja pa cun Mommy. (Yes. Maybe he was watching Boom Boom Bautista, who won. Ben was a close friend of Boy [a cousin], his wife was a classmate of your mom. He was 73. His wife is 72, much older than your mom).

Me; Eh kasi ya gradua Mommy kinse anyos lang. (Of course, because my mom was only 15 when she graduated).

Uncle Luis: Si, Mommy 15 years old di quel ya gradua high school 1953. Ya mira yo con aquel ung co-graduate di niso alla na Copena's [Bookstore]. Di anda daw niso todo luego la noche na lamay.... (Yes, Mommy was only 15 years old when she graduated from high school in 1953. I met one of our co-graduates at Copena's. He said we are all going to the wake tonight....)

He has a tendency to repeat what he said, over and over again. But I guess that's something that comes with age.

Chabacano in California

(posted by Josie)

I think I belong to the generation of Caviteños that stopped speaking in Chabacano to their children.

I have been living in California since 2000 and I talk in Chabacano only to my sister, Gigi, who leaves in a city not far from mine, and twice a year to my Comadre Juaning who lives in New York, when she calls me on my birthday and I call her on hers.

Since life here in the States is fast-paced and there are no maids or helpers unlike in the Philippines, daily life is very busy and we seldom find time to talk to relatives and friends. That is why my sister Gigi and I call each other only maybe twice a month or when there is news from home or problems that need our attention or when we have birthday parties to attend to.

And my better half is Ilocano so we speak to each other in Tagalog. I never learned to speak Ilocano, but he speaks and understand Chabacano a little.

Gracias a Diyos y mi mga ihas y mi unico iho sabi platika Chabacano. Porkasa ya quida grande illos kun mi Nana. Y Gracias a Diyos tiene esti Blog “Habla Chabacano” para no ulvida platika Chabacano. Quiereng-quire yo le esti Blog na “Habla Chabacano” mucho yo ta prindi mga otro otro cosa.

Memory and Continuity

My daughter has a knack for imitating people. She mimics the expression on my face (the pout and downturned lips and all), the way her grandfather walks, the way her grandmother walks, the way her aunts, uncles and other grandparents talk. She even imitates the way her great-grandmother kisses children (with a sniff first and then a peck). And when she gets really wacky, she even acts out inanimate objects, such as a teabag swimming in a cup of hot water.

I once told her a story, to which her only reply was, "Puera biro? (No kidding)" in exactly the same intonation my mother used. "Puera biro" happens to be my mother's favorite expression and, growing up, I heard it only from her and from no one else. Hearing it again sounded like both my mother and my daughter had morphed into one person! What a nightmare! It felt as if the two were ganging up on me!

Once we were having a conversation that had to do with something about my parents' house in Cavite City, and my daughter prefaced her sentence with, "Sabi ni Aling Josie.....(Aling Jose siad....)" using the sing-song Caviteño puntó (intonation) she heard neighbors use when they talked about "Aling Josie," her grandmother. The nightmare again!

I sometimes think my daughter is obsessed with being my mother. About a year ago, my daughter found an old house dress that belonged to my mother, laid claim to it, and started using it herself. I keep forgetting that during the summers she spent in Cavite City, my daughter was my mother's shadow, tagging along wherever she went. When my mother was a member of the Mother Butler Guild, my daughter was christened Baby Butler.

I didn't realize it at first, but their maternal grandparents, uncle and aunts figured a lot in my children's stories about childhood days spent in Cavite City. Now that they're all adults themselves, they tell their stories matter-of-factly, stuff that I didn't know happened to them, conversations I never knew they had had with their elders.

My eldest son narrates how, as a child, he reported to my mother conversations my husband and I had (the snitch!) or the escapades he witnessed his uncle having (double snitch!) or the nuggets of wisdom he heard his grandfather speak which became his own boyhood words-to-live by. My children often compare their grandfather with his siblings and they've decided he's the fairest of them all. In fact, they think of him as their very own Robert de Niro (sipsip! sycophants!).

I don't hold these stories against them. On the contrary, I think they are fortunate, compared to their cousins, to have such stories to tell. Having been born years ahead of other members of their generation in our family, they had the advantage of having seen our family together while my parents and siblings were still staying in Cavite City, and having known them somehow before these family members scattered to the four corners of the world.

In a way they were witness to family traditions and lore, which somehow rubbed off on them. In a way, too, my own history is repeating itself in them. I was witness to a time when my grandfather was alive, when elders spoke Chabacano, and when Cavite City culture, however indirectly, came alive in my own little childhood experiences.

And so they exhibit some inclination and interest in learning Chabacano, and are alert when they hear people speak Chabacano or find out about people who trace their roots to Cavite City.

This is why I've convinced my daughter to write in this blog. She did try it, using the name Kroketas. My mother, Josie, is also contributing comments and has been persuaded to write blog entries. Through memory, the past is with us, and continuity is achieved.

Summers in Cavite

When I was a little girl, summer meant time spent in San Roque, Cavite City where our parents lived. It meant a break from school in Manila and the freedom to run around in the streets, or stay out late at night playing with other children.

My parents' house was half a duplex painted in dull green with a small garden and a backyard, so unlike the tiny matchboxes that pass off as apartments these days. It stood on a quiet street that, despite being a jeepney line, was not as busy as similar city streets would be. There were no tall fences between that house and those of the neighbors' on either side, so that children could freely run from backyard to backyard, often letting dirty fingers run through the newly washed clothes that were hanging out to dry.

It was a predominantly Chabacano community. The other half of the duplex was occupied by Auntie Anggut, her husband Tatay Daniel and their family. The other next door neighbor was Ñora Lily (with her husband Ñol Cesar and their children), and across the street was a big house where Ñora Lily's mother Ñora Angela lived. Ñora Angela was an unsmiling, stern-faced woman who had a reputation of being a grumpy child-hater. We hardly saw some of Ñora Angela's grandchildren who were our age and who were living with her in that house; they were probably forbidden from playing in the streets. I often imagined Ñora Angela living the the life of a recluse in an attic across the street.

Every morning we bought pan de sal and butter from the store a block away. The store was managed by an old couple, Ñora Yay and her husband Ñol Tilano. That store was also where we loved to buy nuts which we dropped into the bottles of RC Cola we drank, so that one gulp meant softdrinks and nuts. We passed the time playing around the Thirteen Martyrs monument that was just a few meters away. We ate caimito from the tree in Ñora Lily's backyard, my first ever taste of star apple.

In time, my parents moved out of that house and bought a bigger one in another district, which was not really a Chabacano-speaking area. Still, we kept ties with old friends from San Roque. Auntie Anggut's daughter Girlie, and Ñora Lily's granddaughter Marissa, became madrinas to my first born son and every Christmas without fail those two would have an aguinaldo ready for their ihao, even when that ihao had already reached his late teens. One of Ñora Angela's granchildren, Joy, also became my son's piano teacher.

Ñora Lily's house still stands and I think she still lives there although Ñol Cesar died long ago. Auntie Anggut and her family eventually moved out too, and Tatay Daniel is no longer around. I guess the ghost of Ñora Angela still hovers somewhere there.

But despite the distance from Cavite and the people we knew, the ties exist and we try to nurture them and hope that the next generation takes the cue.

Chabacano in Laguna

(posted by Kroketas)

One Sunday afternoon as I was browsing through used books at a thrift shop near my school, I overheard the owner speak in (guess what?) Chabacano. I approached her with a book in my hand:

"Cuanto esti?
She smiled "Are you from Zamboanga?"
"No, but my family is from Cavite." I said

Her name is Maria Grace Carriega. She said she grew up in Zamboanga City but had to move to Los Baños, Laguna where she eventually got married. She owns this cute store called the Practical Shop thats sells all sorts of things--from second-hand furniture to delicious snack food to thousands of interesting books--at very low prices. And her helpers at the shop are Zamboangeños too!

It was a welcome experience to hear Chabacano spoken far from its own home... places you thought you'd never expect to see Chabacanos... Ü

Cumpleaño ya naman

Ya pasa dos cumpleaño na niso pamilya, ya olvida ya naman yo. Ya celebra birthday el sobrina y sobrino de mio. Carang cara daw de mi mga hermana este dos. Y pareho intelihente, como rin mga hermano y hermana di lo, sacao con niso pamilya, y siyempre con el mga tata din. Happy Birthday, Cheena y Josh!

Marcos Valentin Jr. - 2

On a visit to Cavite City not too long ago, I decided to swing past the Cavite City Hall to check whether the street fronting it still bears the name of my grandfather, Marcos Valentin Jr.

I woudn't be surprised if people didn't know the name of that street. Nobody lives there and there is no one to refer to it as the address of a house or a store. There are no establishments there except for Patio Encarnacion, a restaurant that still exists but which always seems to be closed each time I pass by in the daytime.

Anyway, I did see the street sign. It was blank in front (the side that faced the road), painted white so you don't see the name on it, but at the back, it was there! Marcos Valentin Jr.! Imagine my elation.

The street itself is a wide, tree-lined stretch of road on the side of a park. Around the park is the Land Transporation Office, the City Hall and further down the road is the Philippine Navy base. It's a very short street, and if you were riding a jeepney going to Philippine Navy, you are sure to pass by the street on your way back to the city proper because when the jeepney turns back it passes right in front of the City Hall and then out through Marcos Valentin Jr St.

Ta quida vieja ya

Ta quida vieja ya talaga yo. Ya pasa dos birthday na pamilya ni no man lang yo abla nada, ni ha, ni ho.

Di quel Valentine's day, birthday de mi prima Leni. Cute na cute eli na litrato, chiquitung chiquito pa, di quel ya quida niso sagalista na ung piesta del Nuestra Señora de Guia na Ermita Church. (Censored aqui si cuanto año ya eli ora! No pa naman lampas na numero del lotto, pero cerca ya!).

Alcabal, di quel February 15, birthday naman de mi sobrino Charles. Ta quida ilos na Zamboanga kaya sabing sabi platika Chabacano esi. Ya saca el litrato de Charles di quel pascua 2005, cuando ya tini niso como reunion y ya celebra niso el wedding anniversary de niso Daddy y Mommy. Brasao con Charles aquel primo di eli Justin. Pero ya quita ya yo el otro genti na litrato para haci focus niso con Charles. Hijao de mio esi, ya olvido yo! Naku, masyao deliquente el ninang!

Valentine's date

Este dos el pirmi ta si date di quel, cuanto año ya pasao. Guapang guapa el muchacha. Y el hombre simpatico talaga! Joven na joven, plakong plako pa. Ya saca este letrato na Cavite City, di quel ta quida pa nisos na ung apartment na kalye Zulueta. El dueño del casa di nisos Ñora Yay, el marido di eli Ñol Tilano. Tiene ilos tienda na kalye Lopez Jaena. El casa di nisos cercang cerca na monumento del Trece Martires. Tiene yo litrato del monumento aqui abaho di esti blog.

Valentine

On the pages of the family's Onoffree Album are pictures taken one Valentine's Day around 40 years ago.

The little girls were made to dress in identical red-and-white frocks with hearts stitched on their chests. Those were the days when ready-to-wear clothing was unheard of, women wore dresses, not jeans, and they had their clothes sewn by a modista or a costurera. Little girls wore flat, closed shoes with socks, and it would have been unthinkable for them to wear anything with little heels the way little girls do now. Those were also the days of really big hair (altho none in this picture), teased and fluffed up with spray net. For little girls, it was common to have their hair tied fountain-style which made them look like they had palm trees or helicopter propellers on top of their heads.

Anyway, I thought of this picture, taken in a house where Chabacano was spoken, while remembering Chabacano days on V-day.

50 years ago

Frozen in time is the moment half a century ago when my mother made a wish as she was blowing the candles on her cake. It was her 19th birthday, she was just out of college, and her family was just a few years settled in Manila after moving out of Cavite City, like many other Caviteño families before them.

What could she have wished for? Did she get it? Did the next 50 years turn out as she had planned?

All I know is that I wasn't even a glimmer in her eyes and she hadn't even met my handsome father. But it was a joyous occasion, as most birthdays go, especially birthdays that welcome adulthood and a whole new life ahead.

My uncle, then only nine years old, supplied me with the names of the other guests in the picture: standing on the left is Sister Maria, who was a member of the Legion of Mary with my mom and my aunt (standing to my mom's left). Gathered around are family friends Nenita Viola, Zeny Ovejas carrying her son Benny, Lilian Sangalang, househelp Nicolas (Boy) Ayende, Luz Cerilles, Linda Hirang and Helen Penales. Friends from Cavite City present were Ricardo Basa and my mom's cousin Zeny dela Cruz. The little girl beside my uncle is Cristina Sales whose brother now heads the government Commission on Information Technology.

The people in the photograph grew up, had careers, moved out of their Manila neighborhood, married and had families, went abroad and were eventually separated by time and distance. I hope the photo reminds them of happy days, a more innocent time, and the full lives lived since then. Happy Birthday, Mommy!

Mi Hermana

Ta pregunta aquel mi otro hermana como daw no hay pa el baby picture de eli aqui. Esti mi hermana, pinsaba yo talagang loyal daughter of Cavite City. Pero no mas. Desde ya kasa, ya anda abroad, ya ulvida ya nosi el lenggwahe. No ma eli Caviteña. No ma nga Pilipina eh. El pelo di eli, colorao ya! Si, sabi platika Chabacano pero mas quiere eli platika English. Spokening dollar ya. Sabagay mucho Caviteño el ansina, ya dija con el ciudad porque kosa nga naman di hace na Cavite? No hay trabaho alla. El que ya pasa con mucho Caviteño, ta trabaha na Manila pero na Cavite pa ta quida, di embarka Saulog todo el dia. Hay, nakakapagod. Y el gastos! Bueno pa quida ya na Manila o maski donde tiene trabaho.