Day 185 - Surigao

We made it to Surigao in time for the Misa de Gallo. It was till dark as we entered the church - a small building with simple wooden pews, and open windows. The mass was in Visaya, the local dialect, again with no hymnals, prayer books, or programs. The words and chords to some of the songs were projected on the wall with an old-school overhead projector, but I think that may have been more for the benefit of the guitarist than for the congregation. The church was packed, and everyone seemed to know exactly what to say and do when. As the service went on, it grew lighter and lighter outside, gradually revealing a landscape of lush hills and cloud-swollen skies.

We exited the church into a world of humid fecundity - everywhere life seemed to swarm. The one paved road through town was packed with tricycles, trucks, and bicycles, but most of the congregation disappeared down footpaths worn in the grass and vines between the houses.

Cz's family lived in a house behind a store in the middle of town. We stopped there briefly to collect some flowers and food, then I rode in the truck with the children up to the family farm. No sooner had we arrived, than a caribao-drawn cart appeared to take us back down the hill to collect the grown-ups. Caribao are a type of water buffalo, slightly smaller and lighter than their Indian and African cousins, and infinitely more patient.

At the top of the hill sat the old farmhouse, and the resting place of Uncle N. When Cz's mom went to the states, she left Cz and his brother with his Auntie and Uncle N. This was only a few years after his father had died, so Uncle N was pretty much his father figure in early childhood. A priest spoke, and we lit candles and sprinkled holy water on the grave. That finished, we feasted with more lechon, fish, lumpia, and all manner of good things.

After feasting, the grown-ups were all feeling nappish, and the children wanted to play. "Come on up", R (one of Auntie N's son) said, patting the top of the tomb, "Uncle N is very accommodating." The adults stretched out on the cool marble of his tomb to rest, while the two smallest children scampered over and around it, bouncing an inflatable toy back and forth between themselves, Cz and I. It was a nice affirmation of life, to have so much friendly activity at the gravesite, and to keep family so close even after their bodies are gone.

The view from the farm sprawls out over acres of palms, rice paddies, and a wide lake. When Cz was little, most of the children were allowed down to the lake to swim, but he was too small, or perhaps to scared.

Lolo L (Cz's biological grandfather) loved tuba, a mildly alcoholic drink made from fermented coconut sap. The coconut trees around Uncle N's tomb were outfitted with sap-collecting tubes, and the merriment was set to increase when one of the helpers was sent up the tree to collect a bottle of tuba. The tree had tiny notches cut into its trunk for hand an toe-holds, even so scaling the tree and then balancing on the fronds seemed an impressive feat.

Fortified by tuba (not really we only had a tiny bit, and its not very strong), the patient caribao was brought back. Small children, Cz included when he was little, are given caribao rides the way American children have pony rides. Being that I missed out when I was a kid, the uncles felt that I should make up for lost time. The caribao was very patient, and handled much the same way as an exceedingly docile western horse with large horns.

Back at the family home in town, we visited for while longer, and looked at old family photographs. This one was taken at the silver wedding anniversary of Cz's grandparents. Cz's mom stands on the far right in a floral dress with a black belt. Her sister B, the little girl on the right hand end of the front row, now lives in the states, though her family is still here in the Philippines.

Soon, it was time to catch the bus back to Auntie T's house. (Cz's mom's sister, the youngest girl seated at the left end of the front row) We waited, amid intermittent rain showers, and soon flagged the big yellow bus. Luckily, there were still seats, and I rode with my nose glued to the window ad rumpled green hills, a sunset over the water, even a rainbow rolled by. By the time we reached Butuan, where we needed to change buses for the one to Cagayan, it was dark. We tried - Cz mostly succeeded - in sleeping the rest of the way home. (His momma used to drive him around to make him fall asleep when he was little. He now has a Pavlovian response to being in a moving vehicle. Start the engine, roll five minutes, and ZZZZZZ)

We arrived back in Cagayan shortly before midnight, where Auntie T was waiting...With a snack for us. All the weight we lost trekking will be back with reinforcements before this leg of the trip is done. Soon we were in bed, with the alarm set for 3:30AM. Cz's Mom and Auntie T were going to be up and ready for the next Misa de Gallo. Heathens that we are, Cz and I plan to sleep through til daylight, at least.