fireworks

(stories of the firecrackers, days before New Year’s Eve and a few notes on my Chinese heritage)

One thing I would always look forward to every Christmas season is sitting under a fireworks display with ashes falling on my head, as if the lights are showering over me, as if blessings are pouring from heaven and there I was, catching a few of its drops.

It has been five years now when I started making efforts to sit under the grand display and it has always brought me joy. But somehow things have started to change in ways I could not explain.

Maybe this was a mere product of routine, but when the fireworks started after the Lantern Parade, I dragged Karla in attempt to at least go under the display. Karla was screaming in awe. This may have been her first time to actually be that close.

I was looking at the lights and asked myself, why couldn’t I feel the same excitement and joy as I have felt for the past five years? I could hear Karla’s excitement and fear both at the same time, a similar expression I could see on my seven year old brother as he appreciated the lights but feared that exploding sound. I asked myself, has the child in me grew up that I no longer enjoy the same things I used to have?

Whatever the answer was, I no longer cared. Karla had enjoyed the fireworks, and so should I.

On the 30th of December, my parents brought the youth to Riverbanks, Marikina to enjoy the fireworks. We were to be in groups and decide for ourselves where to sit during the display. For two years now, Mayen, a fourteen year old girl, would accompany me, buy balot and look for a place under the fireworks display. Only the two of us would get satisfied with this form of enjoyment.

This time, Tintin accompanied us. Although we couldn’t find any balot vendor that night, we bought chips instead and sat only a few meters away from where the fireworks were to be launched.

Tintin was shouting in excitement, her hands as if reaching for its lights. Mayen, with a big smile, was standing in awe of everything. There I was again looking up at everything. The lights were launched a bit low such that the ones faulty were actually coming towards us. Ashes were still in fires when it reached our heads. My eyes were starting to get irritated but I knew in my mind this was exactly what I liked most of being under the display.

I knew I had no expression of joy or excitement on my face. How can I be so unhappy? What was happening to me?

Whatever that feeling was, I wouldn’t want these two girls beside me feeling the same misery because of me. I stopped myself from asking and tried pretending to enjoy what I was watching.

Thoughts ran through my head for the next few hours. If there was one thing I learned this year, I realized that I can be as hard as my mind would want me to be. But why do I have to be so cold?

Come to think of it, I met so many people with different personalities this year, which is good. But as my mind moves forward to the more recent memories, most of the people I’ve met and had been close to this year were the ones who looked down on me and on the things I hold dear. These are the people who had forced me to be the being that I am now, incapable of feeling pity, compassion and guilt towards others.

I really don’t like to blame people for my misfortunes or anything of that sort. I can focus on the solution more than the problem itself but what should be the solution to patch up the feeling of affliction, disappointment, and distrust?

My dad woke me up early the evening of the 31st. I thought it was time for us to go to my grandfather’s house for New Year’s Eve. Realizing that it was too early, my dad really wanted us to spend some time at the church and do some “fireworks”. Although I knew the fireworks he was referring to were just those crappy little rockets he bought at Divisoria, I felt I forced enough to accompany my family.

Along with the cell group leaders, we had coffee, had a few talks and went out on the street to start our “fireworks display”. The guys launched the rockets and lighted a mini- sinturon ni Hudas (Judas’ belt).

I’ve always hated that sinturon ni Hudas. It’s nothing but a dangerous, loud firecracker. And since the Chinese believe in welcoming the New Year with a loud noise, the sinturon was my grandfather’s way of fulfilling the Chinese tradition.

Yes, I have some Chinese heritage in my blood that my cousins and I never really seem to enjoy. For one thing, not one of us got that yellowish white skin. Some of my relatives believe we were able to inherit the small Chinese eyes but only on the first five years of our lives. It must have expanded in a peculiar way that they were now unequally rounded and when we smile, it becomes small and stretches sideward with a few lines to give a tinge of those small Chinese eyes. If it weren’t for my extremely edited graduation pictures, I would have forgotten the thought I ever looked Chinese in my life.

At the same time, my grandfather believed in sukob, Chinese astrology and a few notes on feng shui, fill your house with circles and a noisy welcome on New Year’s Eve. How we dreaded the noise. The only good thing our generation could think of this Chinese heritage is that we may marry a member of a Chinese clan.

I teased my dad for even buying that sinturon, asking him if he never got tired of our annual 2000+ pieces dosage of that firecracker. He simply ignored me.

And since we girls couldn’t really enjoy the sinturon, we played with the watusi (dancing firecrackers) instead. I took a few packs, crossed the street to where my mom was sitting and started scratching a piece to the sidewalk.

I recall a principle included in the Montessori Method which states that a child is to be let alone to do his “work” as he pleases. Using the hands to touch the materials, the teacher must be very careful when intervening such that the child should not lose his concentration. Through this concentration, the child is solely focused on his work until he is satisfied. If the child loses the concentration needed to achieve the work and thus fails to do what he pleases, this can cause an emotional disturbance to the child.

I felt like a child in full concentration of my play that if disturbed will definitely be killing someone. I was a bit far from everyone else and I could hear some men shouting at me, “May batang naglalaro!” but I didn’t care. As I scratch the pieces on the cemented floor and glide my foot with the watusi under me, I felt satisfaction fill me.

A few minutes before midnight of New Year’s Eve, every member of the Agoncillo family went out to the balcony to witness that deafening sinturon being lighted up and explode. As we were waiting, we could see all the fireworks being launched that night. Given that my grandfather lived in Libis, Quezon City, we could see from his balcony even as far from those in Makati. My aunts were very much satisfied with the view as my cousin, Ian, kept taking pictures.

Given that I am one of the smallest in the family, I stayed on one side of the balcony away from where my aunts were watching. With my not-so-good view, only Johnny, my 2nd cousin, stayed beside me. A few times could we only see some firecrackers and they were near enough for me to see them clearly. I realized this time, I didn’t have to force myself to be happy. Maybe I don’t need to remind myself what the year has brought upon me. Life doesn’t always have to be the best. This time, I don’t need to be near the lights to appreciate its beauty.

My grandfather signaled the maid to light the sinturon. The sound was bouncing to the walls of the pelota court which made it even more deafening. My grandfather’s sisters were covering theirs ears with satisfaction as the sounds were believed to be driving the evil omens away. My grandfather sat on a bench staring at the little red lights the crackers were making. My grandmother held onto the rails of the balcony. After her stroke around six years ago, she was partially deaf and at a time like this, my cousins envied her for not hearing the noise.

(My cousins) Donna was able to slip inside the house. Andrew had earphones covering his ears, his eyes rolled a little from where the sinturon made the noise. Ian was still taking pictures, trying to ignore what was happening until my uncle, her dad, stopped her and made her look towards the sinturon. My mom brought me halfway downstairs, away from everyone else, hearing the sound louder than before. I covered my ears and looked as if I was hiding behind my mother.

I could hear the sinturon loud enough to know it was there and I know even we will be continuing the family tradition despite our hatred of it. I will continue to live hearing it every New Year’s Eve.

Maybe I don’t have answers to all my questions now. Maybe the solution to this depression won’t be coming soon. Things will be better still. I will continue to live anticipating the day firecracker ashes fall upon me again. God will revive the meaning of life in me.

The thought gave me a momentary smile as the sinturon made and even louder sound.