Sing while the music plays

 

"The time to sing is while the music is playing" - Alan Watts

We spent the weekend up in the mountains celebrating fiesta in the home village.  500 people or so living in the jungle, drinking, singing, dancing and eating for two days with no sleep.  I myself managed to knock off about 4 hours of shut eye on my sister-in-laws floor but the Karaoke was going full blast when I closed my eyes and it was still going when I opened them.

Before we went there my wife asked me if I was going to dance.  

"Of course." I said not knowing the full extent of that commitment.

When we got there it was already night and everywhere was music and singing and drinking with food being cooked right outdoors. 

My wife said, "Let's go for a walk."

We wandered through the village only feet from the jungle.  Darkness, people and music everywhere.  There are no roads in the village and there are no streetlamps.  Our way through the village was dimply lit by light coming from inside bamboo homes.  Over head the moon shone down through the large banana leaves.  We walked down a path between homes, my wife greeting friends and talking, laughing in Tagalog.  Then things started to get crowded.  People standing shoulder to shoulder all watching something.

I wanted to see what the crowd was about, so I wormed my way through and to my amazement I found a couple hundred people sitting in a large circle around a basketball court under a large roof.  My brother-in-law, the village chief, was addressing the crowd.  I listened, fascinated, not understanding a word.

My wife motioned me to go in.

I did.

I walked up to the ring of people and then someone grabbed my arm and told me to go sit at the head table.  As I sat down a woman to my right picked up a microphone and announce to the crowd, "We have a special guest" her hand gesturing to ... me.

I felt naked.  What am I doing here?

Then the music started.

The first person to dance was the village chief, my brother-in-law.

I watched him dance to the music.  HIs feet slowly matched the music as he circled his woman partner.  Then he begin to throw money in the air.  Peso bills flew over his head and he threw more and more.  As he did this other people from the crowd came forward and they too threw money in the air.

Sitting next to me was an older woman.  She leaned over and started talking to me.

"How do you like the Philippines?" she asked.  "How long have you been here?"  "How did you meet your wife?"  All smiling.  Her eyes digging deep into me.

"What is happening?" I asked her looking over at all the money flying in the air.

 "This is our dance." She laughed.

Gradually I got the gist of what was happening.

Each year at fiesta they have a dance.  The village leaders dance for all to see and they throw money in the air.  The money flys over their heads.  And they dance.  And as they dance their loved ones and cohorts come forward and throw more money.  The money flys in the air and then lands in the village coffers.  Having given back the village leaders are absolved and they get to stay in the good graces of the people.  For another year.

"Are you going to dance with your wife?"  The woman asked me.

Now I knew why my wife told me she wasn't going to dance.

"No," I laughed, "My wife is too shy."

"We'll find a woman for you." She replied, graciously, and leaned over and began talking to one of the men.

About then one of my nieces showed up at my side and passed me a wad of small bills that my wife had gathered for me.  My niece looked up at me, her eyes alive with excitement.

Then the next song began, and all eyes were on me.

I stood up with my knees shaking and stepped into the middle of the entire village and there I stood, face to face with a strange young Filipina.  And I started to dance.  And throw money.

I danced and threw money.  And then more money.  I circled the young woman and threw more money.

The Filipinos are jokers you know.  The guys playing the music put it on repeat.   

I danced and threw money until I only have a few bills left so I threw them all in the air thinking the song would end but it didn't.

The music just kept playing.  

And I kept dancing.

 And the crowd watched.  I suddenly felt a fool.  I felt the eyes of the whole village on me.  I danced with no more money and the crowd watched.

So I pulled out my wallet, my big American wallet, and held it in the air, and the crowd cheered.

I threw big bills in the air and people laughed and applauded.  Then I pulled out my camera and began filming the crowd while I danced.

After the all the village leader had danced and after all the money had been gathered the whole village got on the dance floor and the real dance began.  Loud visceral dance music began blasting and people danced and danced well past midnight, my old body in the crowd covered with sweat.

That night we slept on my sister in laws floor amid a pile of other relatives.  I crashed onto the floor at about 2 am and actually fell asleep despite the loud sounds of karaoke singing.  I slept until about 6 am and woke up to the sounds of roosters and continued karaoke.  I got up a bit blurry and made myself an instant coffee.  Three in one.  Filippino style.  I used four packages.  And it tasted delicious.

I felt great actually.  I felt like crowing with the roosters.  I felt cleansed and alive.  I put on fresh clothes and went for a walk through the village.  Everyone knew me. Everywhere I got smiles and people wanted me to drink their liquor.  

The party went on all day.  The whole village.  People singing and eating.  Everywhere laughter and jovial drunkenness.  Everywhere pigs were being roasted and food was being prepared.

 

That night we drove home in the trike.  Out from the jungle, down from the mountain and back on to the coastal highway.  Sean and I sat in the back facing backwards.  No back door.  No seat beat.  The ground moving along at 50 mph three inches below our feet as we sped home.  The streets were crowded.  Two or three motorcycles tailgating us at all times.  Each with two or three people on board.  Accelerating to pass us.  Just missing the oncoming trucks.  I had my knee wedged into a corner as a brace and my arm stretched out in front of Sean to catch him in case we hit a bump.  And it was all just a normal drive.

Calbayog City 2023

.

.