Waiting for ‘ber’
THE ARRIVAL of the “ber” months has always been to many people a long-awaited event. I am not ashamed to admit that it is for me, too. I get really excited just knowing the year is about to end. It’s like this since I was a child. I guess some things never really change.
I can’t help but wax nostalgic looking back to my childhood days when we would visit my mother’s relatives in Laguna during September, when the lanzones, which naturally grew in their ancestral farm at the foot of Mt. Makiling, were ripe for the picking. Every tree teemed, clusters upon clusters, with the sweet, round, juicy fruits hanging from their trunks and branches and twigs. And the whole place smelled of the sweet scent of lanzones, like it were a perfumed garden. And everywhere, you could see birds and butterflies, animating the place with their chirps and various colors, as if in celebration of the changing of the seasons.
It was in September, when Navotas, the place where I grew up, felt a sense of relief, at the thought that the worst of storms had passed. In those “pre-climate change” times, the months of June, July and August were usually the most storm-beaten months, bringing the usual floods and diseases into the low-lying town of my boyhood days.
However, the “ber” months are, to this day, still notorious for the most destructive storms to have hit the country, specifically the ones that reached supertyphoon intensity. In other words, the “ber” weather disturbances, usually cause the worst damage.
It was a wonderful time to be a boy—in those “ber” months. Navotas, a coastal town, swarmed with migratory birds as soon as the cold weather arrived, normally around September of every year. The birds, wanting to escape winter in the cooler parts of the world, would come to our shores for the warmer climate. Unfortunately for them, they would be met by an army of little rascals armed with slingshots.
Back then, environmental conservation was practically unheard of, and there were no wildlife conservationists to tell of the priceless treasures found in our flora and fauna. So every boy-hunter was free to play out their childhood fantasies in real life. So on weekends, we would go target-shooting from our hiding places underneath the fire trees in the patio of Barrio San Jose, and there would be no one to stop us. Aaahhh… those days!
But the biggest reason I, and for that matter, a lot of people in this corner of the world, can’t seem to wait for the calendar to turn to the “ber” months is still, unarguably, the Christmas celebration, Philippine-style, which is the longest in the world. And no country can ever come close to taking that bragging right from us.
Like clockwork, regardless of the current social milieu, whether the Philippines is reeling from the ravages of the latest natural calamity or rocked by the biggest political scandal, the Christmas show, as they say, must go on. We sing ourselves hoarse with the same timeless Christmas carols, hang lanterns by the window sill and stress ourselves to death in a mad, Christmas shopping frenzy. We fill to the brim the theme parks, malls and even the neighborhood tiangge until everybody’s wallet goes empty. And people like me choose to drown in nostalgia, talking about past Christmases when we were younger, healthier and just starting to pick up a few things about life, faith and love.
Finally, the other special, most intimate reason why I am swept by emotions when September comes: It’s my birth month and although there is no particular birthday celebration of mine that stands out—because back then birthdays in our modest household were not really a grand occasion—I do recall the incomparable happiness of the child being treated to a happy family get-together or handed a toy or a new shirt for a birthday gift.
And yes, I can vividly recall that when I turned seven, my two older sisters and an uncle took me to my first foray into Luneta, and the joy and excitement of that experience on a balmy September afternoon a long time ago was simply beyond compare.
If only I could preserve that feeling and could draw a little from it whenever I feel the need to experience that kind of happiness all over again, maybe I would never have felt lonely for even one breath of my life. A photo from that trip to Luneta, taken of me striking a pose in my bell-bottom, faded glory jeans under the Chinese Garden arch, is one of my fondest childhood keepsakes. I look at the picture now and I am amazed at my ability to smile and be cheerful back then, when we had nothing, when life was much more difficult for my entire family because we were poor and we only had each other to depend on. And though we are a little bit better-off now and happy, I cannot really say that I am happier now than then. Sometimes, I even wish I could live those childhood memories out in real life even for a day.
The beginning of the “ber” months always takes me back to the first time I went to Luneta wearing my flashiest birthday clothes and having my picture taken on a balmy September afternoon.
Adel Abillar is a private law practitioner with a small office in Quezon City where, he says, “I alternate between being boss and messenger.” He obtained his law and prelaw degrees from Manuel L. Quezon University and the University of Santo Tomas, respectively.
