Ramblings on the Fiesta del Señor Santo Niño de Cebu and the Sinulog Festival past
At sunset, the night procession attracted hardcore devotees and parishioners in thanksgiving, some praying for favors, and groups of friends who had nothing else to do, all fervently joining in the singing of the hymns.
Once upon a time — yes, it's been that long ago, or so it may seem — it was easy not to dwell on the fond memories of Christmas family traditions, nor the revelry to greet the New Year at the Casino Español de Cebu. It was due to the breaking of the dawn of the highly-anticipated Sinulog Festival, a fiesta like no other in our islands.
For weeks on end, there were gentle and harsh reminders in most open spaces around the metro — either isolated or the nucleus of activities — in the form of the basic drum and bugle corps, some more sophisticated with additional instruments, which my father candidly referred to as simple noisemakers.
We noticed bustling preparations within the circumferences of Fort San Pedro, Casa Gorordo, the Jesuit House, the Yap-San Diego Ancestral Home, the Heritage of Cebu Monument, Magellan's Cross, Cebu Metropolitan Cathedral, the Basilica Minore of El Señor Santo Niño de Cebu, and even on Colon, the oldest street in the Philippines.
Surrounding these eternal testimonies to Cebu's history and heritage was the immense traffic, which we never experienced before — the stigma associated with poor EDSA, and unheard of in our highly-progressive hometown. And of course, devotees and devotees and devotees! The scene was made more chaotic by vendors on wheels, manned stalls and kiosks who peddled their wares to those who may wish for a keepsake or two.
Though there was kind-spirited ruckus, I must admit, Cebu looked her best with buildings sporting new paint and continuous beautification projects all around. That's when we realized the Fiesta del Señor Santo Niño de Cebu and the Sinulog Festival was coming.
On Saturday, just when my head barely touched my pillow in bed, I had to get up at 3 a.m. to be among the early birds at the National Shrine and Parish of Saint Joseph in Mandaue City. We needed to drive in the dark; we wished the street lights shone a little brighter. But not without competing with the several cars on the road and swarms of bodies — people chatting away, they seemed to have stayed the whole night long awake — all with our common destination.
We took refuge at an iconic post with a life-sized ceramic sculpture which I wish would nudge me when sleep would take the better of me. But luckily, a great incentive to keep me up was the angelic choir, which sounded more heavenly than earthly with each passing hymn.
