New Year in Malamhay

 By Mariel Fleur Loredo

In spite of my father's indignation, on the 31st of December I went to Malamhay to witness and feel how the people in the barrio celebrate New Year’s Eve. There is nothing spectacular about Barangay Malamhay, but maybe a bit of an air of mystery? Here's an account of an experience that I enjoyed tremendously:

Every year the town of Alimodian celebrates the arrival of a new year not with a big bang on the plaza, but with sporadic noise from firecrackers in some streets. Looking for new experience, I journeyed to a barangay 30 minutes away from the poblacion. The barangay is Malamhay. Prior to this trip I had traveled there three times, and each journey was always like the first time for a city-slicker like me. On those previous trips I had not really deciphered why it is called Malamhay, or what the name means. All I knew was I enjoyed my travel to and embraced the beautiful scenery of the place.

When I got there New Year’s eve, I was treated like a “celebrity” – which I enjoyed, of course. I stayed at Amy Quia's residence, which instantly became a home to me. When I walked along the streets, people greeted me heartily and invited me to their homes.  I hardly knew most of them, but immediately I found them very welcoming. I met a former kapitan of the barrio, Nong Pilo, who told me an interesting story. He said he knew Tito Rey and Dada, of course. He said that when Tito Rey was still alive, he was a good buddy to him.  He said that he pushed Tito to run as mayor of the town, volunteering himself as campaign manager in the barrio. The most delightful part about meeting him was he offered us a native merienda of lugaw na pilit and arroz a la valenciana that they had prepared for that night’s media noche.

The children, men, women, and old folks seemed very “alive”; they all looked jolly, happy, and excited to greet the New Year. A group of young boys had made a canon out of bamboo that they carried into the street; they blew hard on one end, lighted it, and out came a terrifying sound.  It made such a blast I thank God my ear drums are still intact.

The men made merry by dancing, whisky and native wine in their hands.  At ten o’clock in the evening, the people gathered inside the kapilya to listen to the "Balasahon," or their version of the mass, with a young girl leading the ceremony of prayers and songs; she read the gospel from the bible. After the gospel was read, a "Panambiton" followed, during which anyone could voice out his or her opinion regarding the gospel, or any topic they wanted to discuss, including grudges they held against neighbors, relatives, or friends.  There was this one woman who was so engrossed in the topic of the anti-Christ that during the passionate discussion she almost had an asthma attack.

After the “Panambiton,” and to close the ceremony, the people sang “Paghidaet” as they moved around the chapel greeting, shaking hands, or even kissing everyone present.  I had never seen a happier crowd.

When the clock struck midnight, people with firecrackers started to light them while the rest just watched the show. Then the men continued partying through the night, dancing in the street. And just when I thought the morning was over with the joviality, I was invited to yet another media noche at the house of Kapitan Armen Amoyot. We ate pancit bihon and arroz a la valenciana again before finally retiring to bed.  The following morning, New Year’s Day, we had some coconuts and drank its juice to shake off the hangover. The happiness that I felt that moment will never wane nor fade in time, or in many other journeys that I will take.

As the years pass the one thing I will always remember was how happy I was. Perhaps that's what New Year is about – to be happy regardless of everything that is happening around you.  I think that is maybe the reason why we greet each other “Happy New Year.”

There is no difference in how the people of the barrio and the people in the poblacion celebrate the New Year, really. What matters is what the people make of it. It has always been true that it is the people who define a place.

I don't know if I will “survive” the rigorous life if I live full-time there, but in that place I found a bit of solitude that I grabbed earnestly.  Each time I return to Malamhay I find another home.

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