Noche Buena on Mango Avenue
/
The author’s aunt, Lourdes Cuenco or Tiya Oding, who handed out Christmas money
In any case, that particular Christmas Eve, my family (parents, two sisters, brother) and I were at the Redemptorist Church in Cebu for Midnight Mass. My mother sat between my older sister and me so we wouldn’t fool around. The last time we were in church, my sister and I had a giggling fit and henceforth Mama kept us apart.
That night was a kind of culmination of Mama’s preparations for Christmas. Weeks before, she had brought my sisters and me to the dressmaker Vering to have holiday clothes sewn. Throughout December, she ran around stocking up on Chinese ham, bottles of liquor, tins of chocolates and cookies, apples and grapes—these were gifts as well as items for our home. The rest of us had set up our Christmas tree. Pine trees were not always available, and my older siblings got very clever at creating beautiful fake Christmas trees. Our tree always sat in the living room, not too far from the piano. Outside, on tree branches, we hung colorful Christmas star lanterns. At night, the carolers would come around singing “Ang Pasko na Ay Sumapit” or “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” or “Jingle Bells.” And sometimes, a procession of people praying and holding candles and led by a priest or acolyte would come around. We always donated to them.
The author and her siblings (l-r): Ana Manguerra, Mariano J. Manguerra Jr., Cecilia Manguerra Brainard
So now, finally, holiday matters were in place, and we were all together at the Midnight Mass. I recall that it was a struggle to stay awake. I would doze on-and-off, my head rolling to one side, then jerking back up. To try and stay awake, I studied the huge Nativity set on the left side of the altar, my eyes resting on the Baby Jesus who was finally laid in His crib. Before that night, the Nativity scene only had the giant figurines of Mary, Joseph, the Three Kings, some shepherds and animals … but no Baby Jesus.
The sight of Jesus in His crib helped me imagine the story of Mary and Joseph being turned away from inns and ending up in a humble barn where He was born. It was a lovely story I thought, better than the story of Santa Claus on his sled flying around at night.
I was wide awake by the time we were in our car (Papa’s beloved Buick). With the car window down and the cool air hitting my face, I waited almost impatiently for the traditional Noche Buena meal and celebration.
My father drove the short distance to the compound of three houses along Mango Avenue, where four of my mother’s sisters had homes. They jointly hosted the Noche Buena meal.
The author’s dad and sister (l-r): Ana Manguerra, Mariano F. Manguerra, Cecilia Manguerra Brainard
My mother had two unmarried sisters, whom we unceremoniously called the “Old Maids —Lourdes (or Oding) and Carmen. Mama had two other sisters and a brother (all married with children), and so we were a large group that night. Some ten grownups gathered in the living room for drinks and lively storytelling; around eight teenagers were in the den or in the patio; the youngest set (another half-dozen, me included) had free reign, running from place to place.
The first stop for the youngest set was the kitchen where the cook was chopping up the lechon. For us children, the prized parts were the tail and feet, which we gnawed on even before the meal was served. That year, I actually got the pig’s crunchy tail, which I proudly waved around; but everyone had a pig’s foot or sheets of crunchy lechon skin, so everyone was happy.
From the kitchen, the youngest set went to the area where the laundry woman worked. There was a (reportedly) fifty-year old giant turtle that lived there. We found him behind a bush near the faucet, immobile as usual. We studied him, admiring his huge carapace that glinted from some indoor lighting. We never bothered him because we had an innate instinct to respect this huge ancient animal.
“It was really for spending, that Christmas money from my Old Maid aunt. That was the fun of it. We had that extra money just to spend extravagantly, and only on Christmas Day.”
After visiting the turtle, we raced to the Old Maids’ house next door. This house was the oldest of the three sitting on the compound, made of dark wood, with a huge verandah running along the front. We looked for their Nativity set, which we had seen develop. First the aunts had set up a huge table, on which they poured fine white sand. On top of this, they positioned their mirrors (for lakes) and Biblical figurines to simulate an entire village. The center of attraction was the stable perched on a hill, with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. A star and angel hung overhead. The whole nativity scene was whimsical and magical. The pieces were made of ceramic and some were very old and had little chips. We spent some time pointing out the shepherds, farmers, assorted animals, and women doing their chores. There was even a small ceramic well, and the oldest cousin said that was were Bathsheba bathed. She proceeded to tell us the story of David and Bathsheba, and my eyebrows shot up at this scandalous Bible story.
When we got tired of the Nativity scene, a cousin suggested we enter the Old Maids’ bedroom. That would have been fun because they kept things like the beribboned lock of hair of our long-dead grandmother; but a cousin said, no, we should go back because it would be time for sabwag soon.
Like locusts (that was how my mother described us), we moved on back to the house where the party was going on. Indeed the Old Maids were ready for the sabwag tradition. The sabwag was something like the Mexican piñata, but without the container. We children lined up against a wall, and the Old Maids were at the far end. After counting to ten, they threw candies and coins on the floor and we children scrambled for the lemon drops, chocolates, and shiny silver coins. We tucked away our treasures and headed to the main table for the main meal.
The Noche Buena meal included traditional Cebuano dishes, like lechon with all the trimmings; pastel de lengua (Carmen’s signature beef tongue dish); bam-I noodle dish; fish rellenos (stuffed fish); embotidos (meat rolls); puto and bibingka rice cakes from Mandawe; and so on. Because there was too much food, everyone had to bring home leftovers.
It was probably four in the morning when we started to say our goodbyes. This was when Tiya Oding called her nephews and nieces to her side. She had a pile of envelopes with her. One-by-one, she handed out an envelope to each one of us, admonishing us not to waste the money.
“Yes, Tiya Oding,” we replied, but we would, of course, blow the money, every centavo of it, on Christmas Day. After lunch at another aunt’s place, we (my siblings, cousins, and I) would go downtown to watch a Christmas movie, and afterwards, we would have Coca Cola and hopia (sweet bean cake) and we would stop by a bookstore to buy books or magazines. It was really for spending, that Christmas money from my Old Maid aunt. That was the fun of it. We had that extra money just to spend extravagantly, and only on Christmas Day. Those of us still around remember with joy that largesse to this day.
But before Christmas day came, in the car, I opened my envelope and found a 20-peso bill, nice, crisp, with a faint scent of my aunt’s perfume. I didn’t even bother to find out what my older siblings got. I just felt happy and very sleepy.
Cecilia Manguerra Brainard’s official website is ceciliabrainard.com. Cecilia’s recent book SELECTED SHORT STORIES BY CECILIA MANGUERRA BRAINARD, and her three novels: THE NEWSPAPER WIDOW, MAGDALENA, and WHEN THE RAINBOW GODDESS WEPT, are published by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House. The books can be found in Lazada and Shopee, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, among other vendors.
More articles from Cecilia Manguerra Brainard
