Christmas on sale
December 19, 2005 | 12:00am
Puto bumbong and suman after simbang gabi. Papel de Japon parols swaying in the chilly December breeze. Troops of little kids caroling in the neighborhood. Warm, fuzzy, postcard images of Filipino Christmas past. For most of us, they are now mere images in Christmas cards or faint memories of childhood. Where have they all gone?
Presently, we are assaulted by the crush of commercialism during this season. As urbanites trapped in the swell of materialism, Christmas is quickly turning into a buying fest. No sooner do we get our bonuses, the kilometric shopping list promptly cuts our short-lived feelings of prosperity back to terra firma – and a sobering realization that we have dug ourselves deeper in debt – come the new year.
In many provincial towns and villages, the same pressures affect every parent and heads of family, albeit in lesser degrees. Kids no longer expect Santa to deliver a toy drum set or pretty dainty clothes. Now they want gameboys, playstations, iPods and cell phones. Barring that, they’d opt for "orig" Nikes and Adidas gear – none of that imitation stuff.
But, as a mirror of the ebb and flow of our current political and economic fortunes, Christmas is influenced and defined by the events and developments around us. Less than five years ago, it was considered capitalistic heresy for any store to offer discounts and promotions during the peak buying season of the year. Today, "Sale, Up to 50% Discount" seems to be the flavor even among the most established brands of supermalls all over the country. It seems that the appropriate question to ask these days is: What isn’t on sale?
Just a week before Christmas day, a stroll through one of the stores of the country’s largest mall chain, I find salesladies and cashiers staring at empty spaces, waiting for customers. In the men’s section, various stalls for well-known brands have one or two browsers apiece, and a couple of buyers in line at the cashier. "Pumipick-up na rin ho ang benta ngayon," says Cashier No. 6. "Pero mahina po talaga, compared sa mga nakaraang pasko," she adds, wryly.
The phenomenon to explain this apparent behavior is the tiangge, where bargain basement prices are causing budget-conscious shoppers to part with their hard-earned money. Originally the local version of the flea market, the tiangge has evolved into a no-frills, bargain market offering everything from bonsai plants to woven fabrics and figurines from Thailand. There are, of course, the staple racks of cheap clothes and shoes (including the obligatory fakes), bags, electronic equipments, Christmas decors, and seemingly endless arrays of stocking stuffers. In almost all the urban centers in the country, these "mini-Divisorias" are raking it in, to the consternation of the mall-based stores.
I know of a mother of four who brave rain, traffic, pickpockets and the occasional sex pervert just to get to Divisoria as soon as she gets her hubby’s bonus (usually released on the 8th of December). There along the sidewalks that ring the large shopping malls, she swims through a flood of fellow shoppers – like a butterfly on a field of flowers – alighting from one spread to another (or cubicle to cubicle), browsing through piles of clothing, picking through hanging displays of merchandise, as she ticks off the mental list of items she needs. "Ang laki ho nang natitipid kapag sa Divisoria bumili. Sa mga malls, times three na ang presyo," says this wizened mother of four. The socialists and communists who decry the inequity inherent in capitalism need only to scan the crowd that flock to these tiangges to see that this is the great equalizer: the perfumed upper middle-classer elbow to elbow with the simple, duster-clad lower-classer (actually, more like body-slamming each other), fighting for the best deal.
Not surprisingly, we have allowed ourselves to be carried along by this tsunami of commercialism – heeding to the call of capitalism to buy, buy, buy and spend, spend, spend – notwithstanding that runaway prices of goods and the shrinking value of the peso present a future cataclysmic collision (Poor Pinoy, he gets caught in the middle of it all). Every year, we are fooled into optimistic abandon by the spike in dollar remittances by our brethren overseas workers. But the occasion for revelry is a very temporary one; come the new year, we sink back into a somber and questioning mood, wondering where it all went.
We cannot blame big business for this materialism. If they had been able to conjure up motherhood excuses for consumers to spend – excuses like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day, Valentine’s Day, Halloween (and are most likely going to come up with others, such as Pet Dog’s Day, Neighbor’s Day, Uncles and Aunts Day, and so on and so forth), why not stack up on their chances during the biggest opportunity to make hay, which is Christmas?
So it is that the happiest people on earth get into the spirit of the season. So it is that we celebrate the Christmas holiday trapped in hopeless traffic jams, equally hopeless shoppers congestion in department stores (or, more appropriately, in tiangges), and equally hopeless doses of unhealthy partying and lechon-eating – a national bacchanalia, if there was one.
It is the season when we forget about the Arroyos, the Garcillanos, the Abats and the FPJs of this world. It is the season when we look to our own – to our families and within ourselves. The materialistic frenzy is really the external (and somewhat misplaced) manifestation of our exuberance during this holiest of feasts. Deep within, there is a deep spirituality that commands a renewal, not only of our behavior but of our ways of thinking.
It is at this time that the grinches and the ornery bosses actually become a bit more considerate, and sometimes, even grudgingly, smile at their employees. Sure, they grouch about lost business and below-quota performances, but nonetheless, they almost act as if they were kinder. And neighborhoods seem a bit quieter, if not more peaceful. Friends and acquaintances are more likely to nod at each other, if not (heaven forbid!) actually greet each other. Gift-giving elicits copious amounts of gratitude and compliments.
Such heartwarming images indeed capture the essence of Christmas as we Filipinos celebrate it. For those lucky to live lives of relative comfort and security, such postcard-perfect scenes reassure that happiness can be found, no matter how tough and challenging the times have become. We are able to transcend the frailties and imperfections of our humanity, even for a brief moment, when we come together to celebrate a historical moment of perfection. That essential part of Christmas will never be on sale.
Erratum: Aniceto Sobrepena, EVP and executive director of Metrobank Foundation was wrongly identified as Enrique Sobrepena in the accompanying photo in my column last week.
E-mail bongo@vasia.com or bongo@campaignsandgrey.net for comments, questions or suggestions. Thank you for communicating.
Presently, we are assaulted by the crush of commercialism during this season. As urbanites trapped in the swell of materialism, Christmas is quickly turning into a buying fest. No sooner do we get our bonuses, the kilometric shopping list promptly cuts our short-lived feelings of prosperity back to terra firma – and a sobering realization that we have dug ourselves deeper in debt – come the new year.
In many provincial towns and villages, the same pressures affect every parent and heads of family, albeit in lesser degrees. Kids no longer expect Santa to deliver a toy drum set or pretty dainty clothes. Now they want gameboys, playstations, iPods and cell phones. Barring that, they’d opt for "orig" Nikes and Adidas gear – none of that imitation stuff.
But, as a mirror of the ebb and flow of our current political and economic fortunes, Christmas is influenced and defined by the events and developments around us. Less than five years ago, it was considered capitalistic heresy for any store to offer discounts and promotions during the peak buying season of the year. Today, "Sale, Up to 50% Discount" seems to be the flavor even among the most established brands of supermalls all over the country. It seems that the appropriate question to ask these days is: What isn’t on sale?
Just a week before Christmas day, a stroll through one of the stores of the country’s largest mall chain, I find salesladies and cashiers staring at empty spaces, waiting for customers. In the men’s section, various stalls for well-known brands have one or two browsers apiece, and a couple of buyers in line at the cashier. "Pumipick-up na rin ho ang benta ngayon," says Cashier No. 6. "Pero mahina po talaga, compared sa mga nakaraang pasko," she adds, wryly.
The phenomenon to explain this apparent behavior is the tiangge, where bargain basement prices are causing budget-conscious shoppers to part with their hard-earned money. Originally the local version of the flea market, the tiangge has evolved into a no-frills, bargain market offering everything from bonsai plants to woven fabrics and figurines from Thailand. There are, of course, the staple racks of cheap clothes and shoes (including the obligatory fakes), bags, electronic equipments, Christmas decors, and seemingly endless arrays of stocking stuffers. In almost all the urban centers in the country, these "mini-Divisorias" are raking it in, to the consternation of the mall-based stores.
I know of a mother of four who brave rain, traffic, pickpockets and the occasional sex pervert just to get to Divisoria as soon as she gets her hubby’s bonus (usually released on the 8th of December). There along the sidewalks that ring the large shopping malls, she swims through a flood of fellow shoppers – like a butterfly on a field of flowers – alighting from one spread to another (or cubicle to cubicle), browsing through piles of clothing, picking through hanging displays of merchandise, as she ticks off the mental list of items she needs. "Ang laki ho nang natitipid kapag sa Divisoria bumili. Sa mga malls, times three na ang presyo," says this wizened mother of four. The socialists and communists who decry the inequity inherent in capitalism need only to scan the crowd that flock to these tiangges to see that this is the great equalizer: the perfumed upper middle-classer elbow to elbow with the simple, duster-clad lower-classer (actually, more like body-slamming each other), fighting for the best deal.
Not surprisingly, we have allowed ourselves to be carried along by this tsunami of commercialism – heeding to the call of capitalism to buy, buy, buy and spend, spend, spend – notwithstanding that runaway prices of goods and the shrinking value of the peso present a future cataclysmic collision (Poor Pinoy, he gets caught in the middle of it all). Every year, we are fooled into optimistic abandon by the spike in dollar remittances by our brethren overseas workers. But the occasion for revelry is a very temporary one; come the new year, we sink back into a somber and questioning mood, wondering where it all went.
We cannot blame big business for this materialism. If they had been able to conjure up motherhood excuses for consumers to spend – excuses like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day, Valentine’s Day, Halloween (and are most likely going to come up with others, such as Pet Dog’s Day, Neighbor’s Day, Uncles and Aunts Day, and so on and so forth), why not stack up on their chances during the biggest opportunity to make hay, which is Christmas?
So it is that the happiest people on earth get into the spirit of the season. So it is that we celebrate the Christmas holiday trapped in hopeless traffic jams, equally hopeless shoppers congestion in department stores (or, more appropriately, in tiangges), and equally hopeless doses of unhealthy partying and lechon-eating – a national bacchanalia, if there was one.
It is the season when we forget about the Arroyos, the Garcillanos, the Abats and the FPJs of this world. It is the season when we look to our own – to our families and within ourselves. The materialistic frenzy is really the external (and somewhat misplaced) manifestation of our exuberance during this holiest of feasts. Deep within, there is a deep spirituality that commands a renewal, not only of our behavior but of our ways of thinking.
It is at this time that the grinches and the ornery bosses actually become a bit more considerate, and sometimes, even grudgingly, smile at their employees. Sure, they grouch about lost business and below-quota performances, but nonetheless, they almost act as if they were kinder. And neighborhoods seem a bit quieter, if not more peaceful. Friends and acquaintances are more likely to nod at each other, if not (heaven forbid!) actually greet each other. Gift-giving elicits copious amounts of gratitude and compliments.
Such heartwarming images indeed capture the essence of Christmas as we Filipinos celebrate it. For those lucky to live lives of relative comfort and security, such postcard-perfect scenes reassure that happiness can be found, no matter how tough and challenging the times have become. We are able to transcend the frailties and imperfections of our humanity, even for a brief moment, when we come together to celebrate a historical moment of perfection. That essential part of Christmas will never be on sale.
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