by Telly Ocampo
Cuaresma Kaniadto: Panahon sa Tingpugong ug mga “Tirong”
Once upon our youthful time, cuaresma used to be a time of reflection and penitence.
When I was young, I pictured cuaresma as a time when the altar was covered with purple cloth and the priest facing the altar during the celebration of the Holy Mass. That was long time ago when the language used during the mass was Latin. I also understood that Cuaresma is 40 days: from Miyerkoles sa badlis until Biyernes Santo sa paglansang ni Jesucristo.
Pagsugod sa badlis (ash Wednesday), walay magpatingog sa radyo, walay motukar sa piano, ug walay lakawlakaw sa kadalanan, kay matud pa, naay “TIRONG”. That was the norm of my Lola Danday and my Oyang Tiva. We could not do anything against their norm because as soon as we would go out of the gate, there was always Oyang Tiva by the window watching the people as they would pass by. Our getaway at that time was the exit thru the kitchen door. Pero dili gyud mi manggawas kay mahadlok mi kaayo sa “TIRONG”.
Unsa man gyud ning “TIRONG”??? The way it/he/she was injected into our young mind was that the tirong would come out especially during the hot season. Mugawas ang tirong kung ting-init labi na gyud panahon sa cuaresma. The tirong was described to us as a black man/woman/figure, with a tail, with eyes in fiery red, and teeth as sharp as needles. Balhibu-on kuno ni siya unya motindog ang iyang balhibo sa lawas kung makakita siya ug biktima nga iyang pagakan-on. Ang paborito sa tirong nga pagakan-on nga biktima mao ang mga bata. This description was more than enough for us, the children, to stay put at home and never to go out of the house very often during the hot season which is cuaresma.
Sus daku gyud ang kamingaw kon ang Ash Wednesday saulugon sa dili pa ang Valentine’s Day kay wa gyu’y transistor radio nga patingugon kaniadto panahon sa cuaresma. I remember the love poems which my Bff Ardy used to read in her program over DYML, during her teens. When it was time for her program, we would droop our heads and lean our faces on the transistor radio set as we listened to her emote the feelings in her love poems. Foremost in the poems read by my BFF was, ‘Beyond Forgetting’ by Rolando Carbonel. I still remember the first few lines.
For a moment i thought I could forget you.
For a moment i thought I could still
the restlessness in my heart.
I thought the past could no longer hurt me
nor haunt me.
How wrong I was, for the past, no matter how distant,
is part of me as life itself.
And you are part of that life.
Adtong panahona, kilig pud mi nga naminaw sa radyo sa mga garay ni Bff. Today, as my Bff and I would recall those days and our poetry reading, we would express a loud laughter. “Corny man Bff, oy,” Ardy, the broadcaster would say.
That was years ago, when our feelings were romantic amidst the innocence of youth. We also had the song hits where some of our teenage boys – our contemporary – would extract lines to be inserted into their love letters. Honestly, I must confess, I did not receive those kinds of love letters. I did not have the experience of a puppy love. Wala ko kaayo kadawat ug mga love letters nga inig bukas nimo sa envelope, mangalisngaw ang kahumot sa polbos ug perfume. Bisan ug dili nimo simhuton, labihan ka isog sa humot. Hmmmmnnn those days.
Fridays during the season of Lent are meant for fasting and abstinence. That was during our days. We always had tinughong during this season. That is now called ‘cham-o-rado” according to my grandson. Puasa ug Abstinenya, madud pa ni Lola Danday. Poasa is one full meal only during the day and abstinensya is no meat at all. Wala gyu’y problema ug dili mi mokaon ug karne kaniadto tungod sa Poasa ug Abstinensya tungod kay ang among supply sa karne, ambit-ambit man lang. We had abundance of pork meat recipes only on fiestas, Christmas and Holy Thursday. Although there was always chiccharon nga gihumol sa mantika gikan sa piyesta sa Disyembre. Amo ni hinay-hinayon ug kuot, initon aron maoy sud-an sa tingka-on.
But on the Sunday of the Resurrection, we had a feast. Ang kahumot sa sinugbang baboy mag-abot gyud ug mutagbo pa gyud paggawas nimo gikan sa simbahan human sa paghugos sa a-las 4 sa kaadlawon. Such was the scene.
During our celebration of the Holy Week, there was a day when tradition would dictate us to cook a dish composed of 13 kinds of vegetables. These 13 kinds represent the 12 apostles and Jesus Christ. And we enjoyed counting the ingredients to the letter: kalbasa, ubi, gabi, kamunggay, alugbati, bago sikwa, upo, camote, dahon sa ampalaya.ug subakan ug bulad ug dili gani banggis sa sanga (the fish, not the tree baranch).
Then, as soon as Maundy Thursday comes, the transistor radio would be turned on. Abrihan na ang radyo, This is for the Siete Palabras in preparation for the Last Supper. Pero apil pa gyud sa among himu-on ang pagmug-ot, pagmugtok ug dili pagkatawa. Pero dili kalikakayan, maka-agik-ik pud mi ug panagsa nga tago ang hinay nga pagkatawa.
I miss those days. I miss the practice. I miss the people.
And the tirong? Of course it/he/she was not true. But I loved listening to and believing in that story before. Ha ha ha ha ha. And I have passed on that story to my children, and, they, to their children.
Indeed, the TIGPUGONG and the TIRONG are “beyond forgetting”. Right?