The Christmas tree

I shall never forget the day I met Mang Serafin Aguilleras many years ago. He was a tall man with a shy demeanor selling these scrawny Christmas trees without a pine scent. The trees reminded me of my brother Robert. He used to scare me to death by putting the caterpillar-looking pine needles in my hair when we were children during trips to Baguio. But I stopped to look because they were real. That afternoon, Mang Serafin and I sat for a long time trying to make the trees more attractive. After experimenting, we discovered that two of the skinny trees tied together resulted in a thicker and more substantial Christmas tree. As years went by, I noticed that each tree he faithfully selected for us from the many trees he sold along McKinley Road every December was made of three or four trees tied together. He also made the most beautiful Christmas wreaths for our front door. I was thrilled that Mang Serafin had perfected the Christmas tree and developed a thriving business, even if it was a seasonal one.

This December our tree did not arrive as it usually did. We discovered that Mang Serafin had suddenly passed away last November and left very little information as to his regular customer base.

From a little wornout black book, his son called customer by customer to inquire whether they wanted a tree. It seems that they were able to recover some business and our tree finally arrived in a truckload of others. But when I ordered an additional one, I had to pay the whole trucking fee for our one tree.

Mang Serafin’s very able assistant explained to me that they were not able to set up their regular selling station along McKinley Road because they did not know how the permit was secured. It was also difficult, he explained, to sell by phone, when you cannot see the tree, and for them to trust that the customer would indeed buy the tree without a deposit. Furthermore, they did not have the recourse of a selling station if the customer did not accept delivery. It was at this point that I felt so saddened by this story,

I actually cried.

I cried because the simple lack of information, transparency and openness that allow people like Mang Serafin to secure a permit to do business, even in a public space, was the cause for his thriving business to be interrupted. True, it can be argued that Mang Serafin’s selling station was on public property and who knows who received the fees he paid. However, every community in the world makes room for different levels of enterprise for those who can pay rent to a mall or for those who are given the chance to make a living by selling from public spaces – products needed by a community. One sees a lot of this – like "vintage" junk sold in a street flea market or Christmas trees sold along the sidewalks of New York.

I cried because our prosperous community, including myself, during this season of love and giving, did not care enough to find out why Mang Serafin and his trees were not there. We so often forget that true generosity goes beyond giving charity. It involves being conscious and sensitive to making sure that those around us are given a chance, especially because we have the power to create the environment and infrastructure to help people like Mang Serafin – and his children – succeed.

Our Christmas tree, in all its splendor, is a tribute to Mang Serafin and everyone like him who dares to try. It is my reminder that people really do not want charity – they just want the chance to make a living and by helping the process, we contribute to a better and prosperous society. May all the blessings of Christmas bring you and your families great happiness and fulfillment.

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E-mail the author at dorismagsaysay@yahoo.com.