Age-old 'pamahiin' practiced as New Year's resolutions
Published Jan 6, 2020 12:00 am
OPINION AND OPTION
By ELINANDO B. CINCO
Elinando B. Cinco
In my high school days, our old hometown of Calbayog (Samar) was probably what is now called “traditionalist” when it came to following practices, many of them crude, to greet the coming of the New Year.
As a young boy, many of my playmates noticed that the practices were mainly religious in nature. But complaining about them was taboo. It was blind loyalty to our grandmothers who made the rules, and parents who executed them for their children.
For example, the day before January 1, was confession day. And early afternoon up to angelus hour, there were long lines of dutiful boys and girls leading to the confessional boxes in our Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral.
The father confessor had an inspiring word in his absolution blessing: “You are now prepared to have the body and blood of Jesus in the New Year.”
Of course, communion day January 1, saw us, young boys, in new polo shirts and short pants, plus shoes that were polished and shining like our hair pomade.
A couple of days earlier, my father would bring me in his Columbia balloon-tire bicycle to the barbershop nook of his favorite favorite barber, Mang Julian.
After depositing me, his gentle reminder of my haircut style went to the one-eyed barber – “Alfonsino corto.”It is also worthwhile telling here that the then 50-year-old barber was a master player of the bandorilla (a lead string instrument similar to the Italians’ mandolino).
It was only while in college at UST that I learned the male hairstyle meant, “white sidewall.”
It was not surprising at all since most of the Spanish Dominican friars sported the “Alfonsino corto” hair cut.
Back to the age-old New Year’s resolutions practices in the old hometown. “Diwata” is the Waray term for “pamahiin.”
There were also many schoolboys of my age who were non-believers of tradition. They seemed to enjoy their status as “progressive.” They chastised us, traditionalists,” as “diwatador.”
Christ the King College is the name of our school. From 1955 to 1975, it was administered by American Franciscan missionaries from Pulaski, Wisconsin. Students discovered that the priests also were traditionalist, in some ways.
For one, during the first couple of weeks of January, they came to their assigned classrooms as teachers in newly pressed white priestly robes.
Asked by students if they also believed in the practice of making New Year’s resolutions, they only gave us an enigmatic smile and a whisper of “They can give you no harm.”
Elinando B. Cinco
In my high school days, our old hometown of Calbayog (Samar) was probably what is now called “traditionalist” when it came to following practices, many of them crude, to greet the coming of the New Year.
As a young boy, many of my playmates noticed that the practices were mainly religious in nature. But complaining about them was taboo. It was blind loyalty to our grandmothers who made the rules, and parents who executed them for their children.
For example, the day before January 1, was confession day. And early afternoon up to angelus hour, there were long lines of dutiful boys and girls leading to the confessional boxes in our Sts. Peter and Paul Cathedral.
The father confessor had an inspiring word in his absolution blessing: “You are now prepared to have the body and blood of Jesus in the New Year.”
Of course, communion day January 1, saw us, young boys, in new polo shirts and short pants, plus shoes that were polished and shining like our hair pomade.
A couple of days earlier, my father would bring me in his Columbia balloon-tire bicycle to the barbershop nook of his favorite favorite barber, Mang Julian.
After depositing me, his gentle reminder of my haircut style went to the one-eyed barber – “Alfonsino corto.”It is also worthwhile telling here that the then 50-year-old barber was a master player of the bandorilla (a lead string instrument similar to the Italians’ mandolino).
It was only while in college at UST that I learned the male hairstyle meant, “white sidewall.”
It was not surprising at all since most of the Spanish Dominican friars sported the “Alfonsino corto” hair cut.
Back to the age-old New Year’s resolutions practices in the old hometown. “Diwata” is the Waray term for “pamahiin.”
There were also many schoolboys of my age who were non-believers of tradition. They seemed to enjoy their status as “progressive.” They chastised us, traditionalists,” as “diwatador.”
Christ the King College is the name of our school. From 1955 to 1975, it was administered by American Franciscan missionaries from Pulaski, Wisconsin. Students discovered that the priests also were traditionalist, in some ways.
For one, during the first couple of weeks of January, they came to their assigned classrooms as teachers in newly pressed white priestly robes.
Asked by students if they also believed in the practice of making New Year’s resolutions, they only gave us an enigmatic smile and a whisper of “They can give you no harm.”