j.d. salinger, 91

So long, Holden Caulfield. Until next time.

strangers

In our daily lives, we spend so much time dwelling on differences until such time that we are faced with a common enemy.

to have and to hold

I was preparing a briefing packet of my new film Limbunan (Bridal Quarter) this afternoon and I chanced upon an old entry from my previous blog. I'm not really fond of weddings so I find it strange to be doing a film on the topic. Anyway, here's the blog entry:

I JUST RECEIVED an invitation to a wedding, a scented and silky smooth paper with fine print, in burgundy and gold motif —colors I normally link with a bottle of rum. It was my cousin, Phillip, who thought of the association first a few years ago when Xophia, another cousin, was planning her wedding. She asked what motif was fashionable, and since we were at a party, his attention was drawn to a bottle of Tanduay on the table. 

“Burgundy and matte gold is a perfect motif,” Phillip blurted. Two weeks later rolls of burgundy and gold silk were delivered to the house. 

I checked the names of the principal sponsors so numerous they are enough to constitute a new town –a penchant of Moro politicians these days. They are composed mostly of politicians, from the governor to the barangay tanod, as well as government bureaucrats, a former beauty queen, five lawyers, and two doctors. 

I’m not really fond of weddings. The corniness and high drama. The sheer amount of cosmetics the make up artist is required to apply on four-year-old flower girls to deserve payment. The bride feigning virginity who still insist on wearing a fully sequined immaculate white gown in spite of her parents’ embarrassment when they organized the ceremony in a rush to conceal the fact that she’s actually three months pregnant and to wait another month will show her walking down the aisle in pythonesque figure after swallowing a wild boar. If there’s one reason I still exhume my moth ball-scented barong tagalog from its grave, it’s because weddings provide a good opportunity to gossip. 

My cousin Sarah has developed the preternatural ability to detect the slightest hints of cosmetic surgery during weddings. She can even carbon date them. “Her Botox is already two months old. She needs a retouch in about four weeks,” she would whisper into my ear. 

Wedding ceremonies have evolved drastically in the last twenty years. Maguindanaon nuptials have acquired the nuances of a Christian or Western-style wedding. The bride is now expected to walk down the aisle, and flower girls –acting as proxy for their mothers who never had the opportunity to perform this role because they were not cute enough— litter petals in her path. After the wedding the newlyweds slice a tall cake, seventy percent of which is made some non-biodegradable material. They drink ice tea in flute glasses in place of wine, which is haram. The bride tosses the bouquet and one could expect another wedding in a few weeks. 

By contrast Wahhabi numskulls, imposing what they learned in Saudi after a stint as construction workers, insist on a real Islamic wedding, whatever that is. The most noticeable feature of this wedding is segregation: daughters of Sittie Hawa on one corner and the sons of Adam occupying the center of room. Don't be shocked if you see the groom exchanging I-do’s with the father of the bride. Rest assured that you’re still in Moroland, not Massachusetts. 

I still prefer the traditional Maguindanaon wedding. The royal weddings are particularly tedious because there is an age-old protocol to follow.

The process leading to the wedding of members of the aristocracy starts with pangengedung, in which the groom's family, or kamaman, checks if the bride is not yet engaged or doesn’t have other suitors. Her bantingan, honor status, as well as her family's maratabat, or royal lineage, are also scrutinized. This is done so that both parties will have a common understanding of the families that will soon be joined in royal matrimony. 

Once a preliminary understanding has been reached, the actual salangguni or betrothal takes place. The kamaman conducts a procession to the bride's family with the highest-ranking member of the family leading the procession. The groom-to-be declares his intention to marry through mediators, usually family elders, who explore the possibility of setting the dowry and the details of the wedding. 

If both parties reach an agreement, the tatas, symbol of agreement, traditionally a Maguindanaon sword, or kris, is given by the groom's mediator to the bride’s family, the kababayan. Henceforth, the groom- and bride-to-be are considered engaged. The bride-to-be is prohibited to accept suitors and the groom-to-be is not permitted to court other women. In the succeeding months after the salangguni, the bride-to-be is kept from public view and is expected to remain in a room called limbunan where she will be prepared for the wedding day. Part of the preparation is the application of pinilo, a traditional powder made of pounded rice, all over her body by a retinue of ladies-in-waiting. This period usually takes three months.

Palabunibuniyan, merriment, accompanied by a kulintang ensemble and dayunday, song duel, begins the long wedding celebration. The whole place is then embellished with traditional decoration such as pandala, flags; sambulayang, three-tailed banner representing the royal houses; bagiyuntay, big tussled umbrella; ubol-ubol, small tussled umbrella; pamanay, flaglets; ulol, ceiling décor; and lalansay, wall decor. 

Days before the wedding, the kamaman delivers the igan –a traditional wedding bed— to the bride's house. 

On the morning of the wedding (sometimes a few days earlier), the damak, food placed on ornamented platters, is brought to the bride's house. It is very important to know the royal protocol in delivering the damak, taking into consideration the proper arrangement of the food items. Traditionally, the bride's family can call off the wedding if the damak is not arranged in the proper order. 

While the groom is being dressed up, the female relatives of the groom proceed to the bride's house to help her in the last few preparations. But before they could see her, a bungka sa bilik has to be paid. Then the groom's entourage marches to the bride's house. Upon reaching the house, the groom's representative has to pay a token, the lenan, before the groom can enter the bride's house. An elderly woman waits at the door of the bride’s room holding a handkerchief with its tip tied to a gold ring. The woman tosses the end of the handkerchief into the air for the groom to catch. He is given three chances to catch the ring before he could fetch his bride. 

In most instances, the groom and bride ride a platform carriage, or usungan, in a traditional parade that will bring them to the wedding ceremony, followed by an entourage carrying family heirlooms. Take note. No coin bearers or flower girls. 

In the wedding ceremony, or kawing, the groom sits away from the bride. An imam takes his right hand and places it against the hand of the wali, the bride's representative. The groom's family places a pillow on the foot of the groom and the wali. The groom then gives the imam a white handkerchief, which he puts over the clutched hands. The groom takes his vow. After he accepts the vow, the public is then asked thrice if the ceremony should continue. The public is expected to say, “Oay” (yes). Then the imam delivers the sermon and solemnizes the ceremony. After which, the groom encircles the bride three times and places his thumb on the bride's forehead. 

The newlyweds partake in the pundutan, a traditional meal that signifies the start of their married life.