On the Feast of the Black Nazarene...

[the wooden statue that draws millions to the the streets of Quiapo has a devotion that is over three centuries old. image courtesy of Dennis Villegas]

Today, over two million devotees will make their way to the old Manila district of Quiapo where upon those narrow and labyrinthine streets a wooden image of Jesus Christ bearing the cross called the Black Nazarene or Poong Nazareno [Poon translates to "lord"] will be processed on what I personally claim to be the longest a religious image takes to complete an entire procession cycle.



If you are a Filipino and a Filipino Catholic for that matter, you know how these processions are expected to end from anywhere between eight to twelve hours after it begins at noon. The sea of people and devotees in bare feet pulling and tugging at the rope that goes before the carriage [called Carroza in the local Hispanized vernacular], and the motion that seems to explode in all directions as people try to hang on to the rope while moving the procession forward as some attempt to climb and touch the wooden image of Christ, are images immortal to this Feast.



A few years ago, The Barefoot Baklesa absent-mindedly headed to Quiapo on the actual feast day of the Black Nazarene, and he was unprepared for the sight he would behold. Coming down from Palanca Street did I realize that it was the famed day when once a year, that black wooden image would grace the streets of the old Manila district. Why is it black you ask?

Well, there are a few legends associated to the tint of the skin on the statue. Some say it was due to the fires that struck Quiapo Church in the 1700s and some time in the 1920s, others say it was due to the dark wood they carved the image out of, then there's that of the galleon that brought it here having been set fire to, or that one where the Black Nazarene was brought to the country with a Black Seated Christ Crowned with Thorns [Cristo de la Pacencia being the title of the iconography here] which was housed in the nearby church of San Sebastian, which perished in the fires of the war.

[one of the many replicas of the Black Nazarene makes its way through the streets of Quiapo; hundreds of such images usually follow the main image throughout the procession. photo courtesy of docarlonasol]

But, I'm getting carried away again...

I guess other that the fact that Quiapo is such a melting-pot worthy of Socio-Anthropological study where contrasting worlds seem to stand side by side with a magic all it's own, Quiapo was the place where I got jolted -so to speak- to a Genuine Spiritual State.

As I stood there frozen, the tail end of the explosive crowd that bore the the wooden image of Christ passing before me, at that moment, there was this humming silence as the crowd moved on; and for what seemed like an eternity crammed in mere seconds, I felt as if God himself had walked the Earth and just passed by in front of me... Still sends chills down my spine a few years on -also this is the first time I am writing about it.

I wish thee all the blessings that come with this day.

thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

here's praise for the Pinoy Bayanihan Spirit

BAYANIHAN is probably one of the most ubiquitous concepts of the Filipino Values system. If you're not familiar with it, the closest equivalent to the English language is collective community spirit.

The image most associated with Bayanihan is of a bahay kubo [nipa hut] borne on the shoulders of men to be moved to its new location... the image of an entire village helping out one of their neighbors in this most arduous task is one of those things that are taught by Social Studies teachers when they discuss certain Filipino Values or Traits once you hit first grade. [If it's not a crude first grade textbook drawing, I think there was a painting of it with a mother and child peering out the hut's window as they are being moved -with much artistic license, I remember...]

As the aftermath of the last tropical storm that hit the archipelago still looms over us, my praises go to the Filipino people as we all come together and help each other out through this most difficult time. Relief operations, donations, pledges, volunteers, are all but testaments to the Bayanihan Spirit. We as a people are resilient.

Some find solace in the fact that they are not alone in this, some find themselves with a stronger resolve to get through, some -though their faith may have been tested- still hang on to it... Hope doesn't run out easily for us.

But on the other hand, there's a lesson to be learned here. I hate to sound a bit preachy here but as a society, we seem to be very good at reacting to crisis but not in the calculated preparedness or the planned avoidance of it. I have seen my share of urban planning experts claim they had the solution to this years ago on paper, or experts uttering consequences to climate change, or government officials in their capacity or lack thereof reasoning to a broken people about their failure to respond to their needs... a waste of words, as I see it.

So I won't waste more, and will do what I can, and pray...

photo courtesy of heinzkieh [just click on the link]

...thus spake The Barefoot Baklesa

Between You and Your God [the barefoot baklesa responds]

this is a post I composed in response to The Catholic Ordination of the Filipino from The Coconuter's Blog [just click on the title to read it]. The photo of the sliced tomatoes are for emphasis...


First, I would like to point out that I refuse to draw lines between other people's beliefs and mine. At this point in my life, I do not see anyone's God and/or gods any less than mine.

I am gay, and a Roman Catholic. If that's not fucked-up enough to some, then heap the pyre if you have to and burn me. I'm not looking down on anyone, but you see, I was educated by the Jesuits and raised in a purely Roman Catholic family with two priests for uncles. I guess that afforded me the insight I have now, as mentioned above.

The days of the gods of old are gone, Bulalakao, Saragnayan, Idianale, Makaptan, Si-Dapa, Kasaray-sarayan-sa-silgan, Lakampati, and these hosts of immortals have long since left the minds of the Filipinos. They are but mere anecdotes and mentions in rare literature books as but mythology and legend -that still, tragically are less recognized by the Filipino youth as part of their heritage. Animistic in nature, the Spaniards found out that the best way to evangelize the 16th century Filipino was to use the Church's first weapon during the age of the Counter-Reformation: ART. They began bringing religious images that replaced the wooden idols of old, the unearthly pallor of ivory in rich robes decorated in gold replaced the 'larauan' and the 'tawu-tawu' [literally, 'parang tao']. The suffering hero who rose above his trials told in the epics of olde was replaced by the suffering Christ who died and resurrected in the gospels. These have contributed to what I call "Folk Catholicism". And the Filipinos have embraced these for generations to come.

In my early 20s I suddenly saw all this organized religion as a pointless waste of time and I began to explore the many other things out there that peaked my curiosity. The Jesuits taught me that every human being has the right to doubt and discover for himself the worth of any truth. With this, I began studying other people's truths, religions, Buddhism, Zen philosophy, the occult, and I even learned how to read Tarot Cards in their many disciplines: modesty aside, I was so good at it, people from UP were visiting me at the Ateneo where I hung out to have their cards read.

My family never gave me flack for it. What did my family think of it? They thought being gay was enough a burden to hurdle in my maturity and to throw religion into the pot would be unwise. They let me be...In respect to the faith that my family had held on to, I became nominally-Catholic, and did my best for the sake of appearances. Yet all the experiences, knowledge, and insight I have acquired, it was all waxing emptiness.

But then, one day, for a brief moment in time, I felt genuinely that God actually walked the earth. There was this silence that I felt down from my skin to my very soul, an unexplainable yet somewhat eerie silence that had struck me so, that I knew it was time to go home.

So I went into Quaipo church, and I just sat there for hours, asking God to take me as I am where I knew him best. I am not chaste nor do I claim to be entirely pure, and I'm sure the Pope has a lot to say about me if he had the chance. But that's between me and my God, I chose to stay Roman Catholic because that is where I found him -As much as any man, can find Allah, Vishnu, Kami, Asaka, and Nirvana where they can find them.

True, the Roman Catholic Church can seem to be stuck in the middle ages when it comes to certain things. But what most of us fail to realize is that it was one of the first to admit that it must change with the times -too slow at certain times. It apologized for the trials of Galileo, it apologized for the mistakes of the Holy Inquisition, and is continually studying its mistakes in the line of history. It has corrected many an issue with dogma and doctrine which some Filipinos chose to ignore not because they are blind but because they often see that as secondary to the relationship they find with God. Then there's that issue with birth control that's really got my wand in a knot as well as many things that require a second look but I keep my hope for the better.

If you claim to have had a personal connection with Jesus Christ but still are quick to judge those who have none with him, then you may have lost the point that to practice any faith is a continued learning experience. Let them learn their mistakes and misconceptions and let them decide for themselves. Who are we to tell them their faith is less when they have seen its power in their lives.

If you judge my Church as like any business, then you must have met the LaSallian brothers and studied at a LaSallian school for a while like I have, and got jaded. Hahahaha!!! But you see, that's another cliché within myself I have to hurdle and no one else's business. Yet seriously, then I would be so gay to point out 'in taray' how Born Again Pastors also live off on the tithes from their congregation, or how some families of friends from Christian sects follow that 10% to the point of financial imbalance, or maybe I should pick-on the defined rules for giving money to the service of Allah, or the money we spend on ourselves for pointless things when children in Africa are starving -No one wins in arguments like these.

A lot of people think they are entitled to the pedestal to speak ill of society's ill yet would not lift a finger for they think they have done their part in helping the plight of the poor by voicing out. I don't want to sound like that self-righteous Pharisee from the parable, but have you actually gone out there and taught English and Math to underprivileged kids during the summer? Have you volunteered in a provincial hospital for a Medical and Surgical Missions? Have you ever deprived yourself of something so that someone else could have it? And we're not talking about sandwiches or you half-finished soft drink here... People who have an opinion of what's wrong in this world are often those who do it much damage.

Right now, the table I share, I share with some Christian Friends, some Roman Catholic friends, an Eclectic Believer, a full blooded Muslim Prince, and even an Atheist...And you don't see us brewing another world war or modern crusades. Respect begets respect.

While some of you are off to Puerto Galera, Boracay, or Bali this Holy Week, some of us choose to be of service to our Faith. You're more than welcome in my home or maybe I'll see you in the processional line.

thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa
Niki de los Reyes-Torres

The Younger They Gay

[hongou kanata has nothing to do with this post, i just want his photo here]

I know of some people who will be picking on the title of this post for challenging the usual conventions of grammar and composition, well, they can suck it for all I care. I have been meaning to post this for quite some time now, unfortunately it got lost under the many drafts of other stuff I have been working on. There’s a companion to this post that’s a bit more ambitious and would require a bit more creative thought. This however, should be remotely amusing.

When I was younger, my homosexuality was overshadowed by my need for over-achievement. I made sure that people were far too distracted at keeping-up with what I wanted to achieve next to the point of everyone’s amusement. My relatives on my mother’s side did not really think much of it, being gay, I mean. My Abuela had this accepting and generous attitude that greatly influenced my extended family’s opinions that made growing up as the only gay teenager around quite enjoyable. However, I remember being confronted only once about my sexuality at age fifteen; it was my grandmother’s sister-in-law. But then again, Mama Eding comes from a family with a medical history insanity inherited every generation -some people have actually commented that this was their family‘s curse [If you ask me, my grandmother‘s brother‘s lack of judgment in picking that particular woman as wife is beyond me]. So I never really took her seriously. Funny how she took issue with it but the rest of my family just ignored her. Better gay than genetically insane, I said to myself back then.

Unlike some gay teens who have to struggle to be accepted, I felt protected and spoiled by my family on my mother’s side. Those who know the de los Reyeses of Antique know how we take care of our own. And it helped that my family raised me never to take my shame home. “Huwag ka lang mag-uuwi ng kahihiyan,” my Abuela said once. That’s her way of saying we must keep up appearances. I think they were glad that I was this particular type of gay -not that I’m saying there’s something wrong with the other types out there in gaydom- but I do think it helped with their acceptance of my being different.

As per my father’s side, it was another story. You see, my father’s side has what they call the “gay gene” which I inherited. The Dayrit-Torres side of my blood is fettered with gay uncles, gay cousins, gay second cousins… -well, you get my drift. I attended Don Isidro’s funeral back in 1997 and I felt like just another gay guy in the room. Hahahahaha!!!

Now in my 20s, it has come to my attention that we seem to be welcoming new gays into the family [cousins from my mother‘s side]. I have two nephews from some second cousins of mine who are now eleven or twelve. They were involved in this incident at the airport that nearly knocked me off my seat.

It was during a summer vacation when the Nebit nieces and nephews -all eleven of them- embarked on a summer trip. It was then that Boyboy and Bornok confirmed my suspicions. Trust me, it’s a little more complicated and ironic to begin with: Boyboy is the only boy to his three sisters and Bornok is a nickname one gives a rather boisterous and troublesome boy. These nicknames could not be more playfully masculine but I dare you to read on…

So, there they were, Bornok and Boyboy, in front of the airline check-in officer when the old guy goes, “Wow, you are all Nebits [ refers to the 11 tickets with Nebit names he had in his hands ] are you boys brothers?”

To which Boyboy and Bornok collectively answer, “No, we’re sisters!!!” which was followed by their girlish cackle.

Ooooh Myyyyy Gohhhhhd, right? The younger they gay, I tell you. Hahahahaha!!! These days, it really doesn’t take much for a dad to fear how his son’s sexuality will turn out. Congratulating a young dad after having a son has more than once been responded with, “Sana lalaki pa rin paglaki.” [I hope he stays that way when he grows up] -and I really can’t take offense at that. I can hardly fathom how a father’s hope lies for continuance lies so much in having a boy. I mean, Henry VIII went as far as six wives and a few severed heads just to have a son, did he not? You can’t blame a father for hoping. But when that dad resorts to violence to emasculate an effete child, that’s just unacceptable.

On the other hand, I think gay teenagers these days are quite lucky -well, every older generation says the younger one has it better off anyway- the internet alone with its social networking sites, online communities, and resources are a haven for them. They have a place to learn how to cope with all things that trouble them where they can make connections and have friends that know what they’re going through and how hard it is -even if the connections we make online are often superficial, there are genuine ones that pop-up every now and then.

Now, I’m the “cool gay uncle” to these guys. Unfortunately, I’m not in speaking terms with one of the boy’s parents ergo I don’t see them as much when I stay at the ancestral house. Here’s hoping they don’t have it that tough.

Thus spake the Barefoot Baklesa