*84. JAIME DE LA ROSA: Brother Act

HIS STAR ALSO RISES. Jaime de la Rosa, matinee idol of the '50s, younger brother of Rogelio de la Rosa, and a member of Lubao's most accomplished family of stage and movie performers who achieved national prominence.

Philippine moviedom was at its brightest in the ‘40s and ‘50s with the luminous presence of one talented family of from Lubao: the de la Rosas. While Golden boy Rogelio de la Rosa and character actress Africa de la Rosa had a headstart in establishing their film careers, it was not long that another brother joined the acting bandwagon and started making his own mark in movies that are now regarded as truly Pinoy classics.

Just like his siblings, Jaime de la Rosa was born in Lubao in 1920. Acting was in the family’s blood: aside from the aforementioned Rogelio and Africa, a sister, Purita, dabbled briefly in the movies too—until ill health and a rising politico named Diosdado Macapagal put a stop to a budding acting career. Then there was an uncle, Gregorio Fernandez, a noted director who had been instrumental in putting Rogelio’s road to stardom. With his debonair looks, Jaime too, was destined to take center stage and follow his own star.

Jaime was studying Law when the silver screen beckoned. Not yet out of his teens, he was first featured in the Eastern Pictures movie, Anak ng Lansangan (Children of the Streets) in 1939, using the screen name Tommy de la Rosa. Making his strong presence felt, he was cast successively in 3 movies as a supporting actor: Cadena de Amor, Bawal na Pag-ibig (Forbidden Love) and Kahapon Lamang (Only Yesterday). Before the war began, he was seen in a musical, Ibong Sawi (Ill-fated Bird).

This sudden halt to Jaime’s career did not dampen his spirit. He took time to marry his childhood sweetheart, Beatriz Ocampo Santos with whom he would have three daughters: Betty, Cherry and Rowena. He settled his family in Sampaloc, then invested in prime property in Horseshoe Village a favorite residential village of movie stars) and later, in San Mateo, Rizal.

After the war, Jaime resumed acting, starring with his own brother, Rogelio, in the war movie Garrison 13. Soon, he was starring in lead roles alongside the most famous actresses of his time. With Norma Blancaflor, he did the fantasy movie, Aladin. In the musical Ikaw ay Akin (You are Mine), he warbled with Rebecca Gonzales. He was with Mila del Sol in Romansa, Norma Blancaflor in Tanikalang Papel (Paper Chain), Delia Razon in Shalimar, Rosa Rosal in Biglang Yaman (Instant Riches), Nida Blanca in Korea and Charito Solis in Nina Bonita.

But two roles were set to etch Jaime’s image in the hearts and minds of movie fans forever. He was cast in the 1st ever Darna movie, starring Rosa del Rosario, as the lead’s love interest. And, in 1953, he was Fredo, the human lover of the fabled mermaid beauty, Dyesebel, played by the unforgettable Edna Luna.

The ‘50s decade can be considered as Jaime’s heyday, with a string of solo starrers and hit movies like Satur (sci-fi movie) , Galawgaw (a role identified with Nida Blanca) , Hamak na Dakila (A Scorned Great), Anak ng Pulubi (A Beggar’s Child) , Taong Paniki (Bat People) , Kabalyerong Itim (Black Cavalier), Medalyong Perlas (Pearl Medallion) and Faithful. In 1956, Jaime was nominated for the Best Actor FAMAS award his gritty performance in the movie Kumander 13. (Trivia: The term FAMAS, considered as the Philippines’ Oscars, was coined by Jaime himself, a Filipinized version of the word “Fame”).

When television was introduced in the Philippines, Jaime became one of the new medium’s pioneers, hosting ABS-CBN’s Caltex Star Caravan. He put his knowledge to good use by directing TV shows and acting as program consultant, even providing his services as a liaison officer for the Australian movie, The Year of Living Dangerously, in 1982.

All the while, Jaime never forgot his Kapampangan roots. As daughter Cherry recalled, her father had a sweet tooth and relished Pampanago dishes like buro (fermented rice) and kamaru (mole crickets). And, just like his brother, Jaime could not resist entering the world of politics. He served as a councilor of Manila and eventually became the city’s Vice Mayor. He died in service, on 18 September 1996, and, in every sense of the word, a true Kapampangan idol.

(*NOTE: Feature titles with asterisks represent other writings of the author that appeared in other publications and are not included in the original book, "Views from the Pampang & Other Scenes")

*83. SPEAKING KAPAMPANGAN

ARTE DE LA LENGUA PAMPANGA. The 3rd edition of Fr. Diego Bergano's breakthrough work on Kapampangan grammar, published by the University of Sto. Tomas in 1916.

In 1594, the Archbishop of Manila issued a royal decree allowing missionaries to focus their linguistic efforts on 3 or 4 languages to be able to work efficiently with the natives. At that time, the Augustinians were doing mission work among Tagalogs, Ilocanos, Hiligaynons, Cebuanos—and the Kapampangans. Many religious became very proficient with their languages and those who mastered the languages started to write books as guides for others: Arte (Grammar), Vocabulario (Dictionary) and the Doctrina (Catechism).

There is strong evidence to suggest that the 1st Augustinian printing press was set up in Lubao, Pampanga as noted by chronicler Fr. Gaspar de San Agustin, author of “Conquistas de las Islas Filipinas”, who wrote…”for a long time, there was in it (Lubao) a school of grammar and rhetoric, and there was too, a good printing press bought from Japan”. This press was moved according to the needs of the religious, printing everything from novenas, lives of saints to grammar books.

In Macabebe, Fr. Francisco Coronel authored “Artes y Reglas de la Lengua Pampanga” (1617) which was based on the 3-volume grammar-vocabulary book by Fr. Diego de Ochoa. Later, Fr. Alvaro de Benavente completed “Arte y Vocabulario de la lengua Pampanga”, which remained in manuscript form.

The first real Pampango grammar book would come out of the press over a century later, by the erudite priest Fr. Diego Bergano. Born in 1690 in Palencia, Spain, Fr. Bergano was ordained at the monastery of Badaya in 1710. Eight years later, he secured his first Philippine assignment. After arduously studying the Kapampangan language for 3 years in San Agustin, Intramuros. He was appointed parish priest of Mexico town (1725) and Bacolor (1737-1747). He rose to become an examinador sinodal and prior of San Agustin in 1731 and became prior provincial-elect in 1734.

Fr. Bergano’s best known work is the breakthrough “Arte de la Lengua Pampanga”, which came out of the Jesuit press in 1729. This book was so well-written and received so much attention that a 2nd edition was published in 1736 from the Franciscan press in Sampaloc. The 3rd edition was published by the University of Sto. Tomas in 1916. The pioneering volume covered the rules of Kapampangan grammar, ranging from proper declensions, voices and moods, conjugations and word usages.

The dedicated priest also authored “Vocabulario de Pampango en Romance y Diccionario de Romance en Pampango” (Pampango-Spanish/Spanish-Pampango Dictionary), with the help of Juan de Zuniga, a member of Mexico’s principalia class. Fr. Bergano easily mastered the complexities of Kapampangan, right down to the precise syntax. His works on the language were considered to be the finest, prompting Fr. Casimiro Diaz to comment “..the work came out so perfect, that there is nothing more to say or criticize..”.

(*NOTE: Feature titles with asterisks represent other writings of the author that appeared in other publications and are not included in the original book, "Views from the Pampang & Other Scenes")

*82. THE DAU PX EXPERIENCE

DAU"S DAYS. Post-war fiesta celebration of Dau presaged a future of business booms and commercial success, thanks to nearby Clark Field and the enterprising spirit of its people.

There was a time in the '70s when barangay Dau was even more recognizable than its mother town, Mabalacat. Who would think that this town's biggest and most populous barangay, bustling with commercial possibilities, was once just a forest thicket, where hardwood Dau trees (Sc. Name: Dracontomelon dao) grew in profusion and provided the barrio’s landmark?

Teodoro Lising is listed as the fundador of Dau in the year 1843. Dau became a barrio in 1936 by virtue of Presidential Proclamation no. 1. That same year, President Manuel L. Quezon issued a decree establishing the first training cadre in Dau Checkpoint at Fort Stotsenburg 1. Camp DAU, as became the venue for training hundreds and thousands of 20-year old Filipinos who were required to render military service starting in 1936. Training began the next year under the command of Philippine Scout and Army Officer General Fidel Segundo, from the U.S. West Point Class 1917. Segundo had been the 1st Filipino officer assigned to Stotsenburg’s Scout artillery regiment twenty years earlier.

Based on stories of retired superiors, DAU was an acronym for Division Artillery Unit, since it was the first artillery training unit of the Philippine Army. It has been suggested that barangay Dau got its name from this unit, but this cannot be possible, as the name “Dau” has been appearing on maps earlier than 1936. The camp's Post Exchange was also set up in Dau, which presaged the rise in stature of the barrio as the country's PX capital in the 70s.

With the relaxation of Clark rules, PX goods flowed out of the base in abundance, to be resold later in stores and shops that quickly sprouted like mushrooms along MacArthur Highway. Farmlands were flattened and idle lots were cleared to give way to hole-in-the-wall stalls that sold never-before-tasted goodies and luxuries seen only on American glossies.

All of a sudden, Pringles in canisters, Hanes T-Shirts, PACEX Milk and ice cream, Dove soaps and PikNik shoestring potatoes were all the rage. Everybody joined the PX bandwagon and soon, a commercial area of sorts rose in Dau, the biggest of which is the Marina Arcade owned by the Moraleses. Even houses nearby turned their garages into stalls, selling not just brand new items but also second-hand, American leaving goods---from lamps, toys, plumbing fixtures to whole dining room showcases.

With the construction of the North Expressway that linked Dau to Manila, the great American experience became just a short ride away. Week-ends found hordes of Manilenos shopping for imported shampoos, Playboy magazines, rubber shoes, cookies, bedsheets, army fatigues and lawn mowers in Dau, rummaging through second-hand shops for bargains and finds retrieved, rescued and sometimes stolen from the base.

For a lot of Dau folks, the 70s were the heydey of PX business, a get rich-quick period that enabled a lot of them to earn sizeable fortunes in just a few years, never mind if the practice was not exactly legal. Dau thrived and throbbed with heady excitement as symbols of American pop culture--McDonald's, Donut King, Shakey's, Kentucky Fried Chicken-- made their appearance at the mouth of the Dau exit.

No martial law, no anti-American demos, and not even fire, which razed the commercial strip a couple of times, could dampen the tempo of business. Dau was so popular and prosperous in those days, it overshadowed the slow progress of Mabalacat town proper.

The reversal of fortune began with the departure of American servicemen facilitated by the Pinatubo eruption of 1991. Business took a turn for the worse when PX Clubs opened at Clark--the first being the Royal PX Club--which extended PX shopping privileges to every Mabalacat resident.

From Dau, the shopping traffic shifted to Clark where big PX outlets offered fresher, cheaper, more varied merchandise set in American-size warehouses.There simply was no match to the competition, forcing PX proprietors in Dau to cry foul. An enterprising few expanded their merchandise to include both Bangkok and local goods, while still others simply gave up and closed shop.

Since then, the face of Dau's PX business has changed a whole lot. At the height of the Pinatubo eruption, even whole doors, hospital beds, architectural pieces and medical apparatus found their way in Dau shops. Now, more shops are carrying more traditional boutique items, but in the process, they are also losing their unique points of attraction which once lured thousands to their doors.

Dau's golden PX age may have gone, but with the unwavering spirit of enterprise demonstrated by its hard-working people, the barangay continues to forge to the future, firmly entrenched as Mabalacat's premier and undisputed commercial center.

(*NOTE: Feature titles with asterisks represent other writings of the author that appeared in other publications and are not included in the original book, "Views from the Pampang & Other Scenes")

81. FATHER AND SONS

A KAPAMPANGAN FAMILY. Emilio del Rosario y de Ocampo with his ‘titulado’ sons (by 1st wife Josefa Valdez). L-R. Fernando Odon (Medicine), Pablo Jesus (Dentistry), Bienvenido Conrado (Law), Dioscoro Arsenio (Dentistry). Seated : Msgr. Manuel (Secular Clergy). Ca. mid -1930s.

The only picture we have of my maternal grandfather, Ingkung Milyu, is this faded reproduction taken with his sons. The grandfather I never knew is shown seated primly with his 5 “titulado” sons, all half-brothers of my mother. My mother remembers her father as a very strict and stern figure; yet, in this picture, there is a hint of a gentle smile on his furrowed face, which, most definitely, comes from the feeling of accomplishment and pride at having raised his children well.

Ingkung Milyu comes from the very large Del Rosario clan of Angeles. He would carry on that tradition by fathering 20 children in all, from 3 different wives. But that is getting ahead of the story. Emilio del Rosario y de Ocampo was born on 2 September 1878, the 4th child in a brood of 10 of Cornelio del Rosario and Juana de Ocampo y Henson. Cornelio’s grandmother, Maria Arcadia Del Rosario (nee Henson) was the youngest child of Severino Henson and Placida Paras.

Severino was a Chinese mestizo who became a gobernadorcillo of San Fernando in 1815, while Placida’s family name suggested that she belonged to a pre-colonial ruling class. Maria Arcadia’s only brother Mariano, the 1st Filipino Lay Doctor of Laws, was married to Juana Ildefonso de Miranda, daughter of the founders of Angeles, Angel Pantaleon de Miranda and Rosalia de Jesus. Maria Arcadia would marry twice, first to Maximo Feliciano, then to Anacleto del Rosario of Culiat, a union from which sprung the overextended Del Rosarios of Angeles City, which included the katipunero, Isabelo del Rosario, his cousin.

This pedigree didn’t mean much as Ingkung Milyu led a difficult and challenging life, beginning with his first marriage to Josefa Valdez y Clemente. He settled in Sapa Libutad where he earned his income from his small farmlands. Quickly, the first set of children—9 in all—came in succession, only to end with the untimely death of Josefa. It was not long that he married again, this time to Felicisima Castro y Samia (my mother’s mother), resulting in 7 more children. Again, tragedy struck with Apu Simang’s death at the young age of 28. For the 3rd and final time, Ingkung Milyu sired 4 more children with Florentina Sanchez. Obviously, family planning was not in my grandfather’s vocabulary!

There is a story that has come down to us, about Ingkung Milyu’s brother chiding him for being so prolific—and so poor! Angered but challenged by his brother’s insensitive remark, he dared to work even harder so he could send his first set of children to the best schools. After years of sacrifice, his sons finished their studies with flying colors. Perhaps, to prove his point that nothing is insurmountable and that there is strength in numbers, he had this picture taken as a visual proof of his singlehanded achievement and his children’s triumph over adversities, a copy of which, I am certain, was sent to his brother!

And now, a few words about my uncles in the picture, standing left to right. Fernando Odon (Tatang Anding) was a Doctor of Medicine and practiced his profession in Angeles until his death. Pablo Jesus (Tatang Pabling) finished Dentistry and for years, also had a thriving private practice in the city. He was also at one point, a city councilor of Angeles and ran unsuccessfully for Vice Mayor. Bienvenido Conrado (Tatang Dadong), the youngest, graduated with a Law degree from the University of the Philippines. He married Perla Gutierrez, the eldest daughter of Justice Jose Gutierrez David and settled in Abacan, Balibago, where he held office and also owned and managed the popular Del Rosario Compound Swimming Pool. Dioscoro Arsenio (Tatang Kuring) graduated with a degree in Accountancy. Seated with Ingkung is Manuel (Tatang Maning), who rose to the rank of a monsignor and who became a parish priest of San Roque Church in Sta.Cruz for over 30 years. The only girl –and the eldest child was the noble Emilia, who, at her deathbed, married Patrocinio Feliciano.

Ingkung Milyu died 5 days after his birthday on 7 September 1947. It was to my surprise that I found his crypt at the Mount Carmel Church in New Manila, next to Tatang Anding’s, only this March. All my other uncles have departed this earthly life too, but I am almost certain that father and sons find time to huddle every day for their special bonding moments, just like in this picture!

80. BLAST FROM NEW YEAR’S PAST

COME, BLOW YOUR HORN. A pert and pretty Kapampangan girl all dolled-up for a New Year party, ready to toot her paper turutut and make merry. Dated 1926.

For the last 10 years or so, I have been greeting the coming of the New Year by just lounging in bed, flipping channels and hoping some holiday musical will sustain my interest till 12 midnight. Unfortunately, my ability to keep my eyes open till the midnight hour has been impaired by age, and now, I much rather prefer to welcome January 1 in dreamland. No amount of firecrackers will ever rouse me from my slumber! (Now for some historical trivia: New Year was not always celebrated on the 1st of January—it was Julius Caesar who moved it from March to the new month of January, which followed the celebration of Saturnalia in December.)

We, Kapampangans, always embrace the coming Bayung Banwa with wide, open arms. Customs like leaving doors ajar and opening house lights to attract good luck are still observed in many homes. Collecting 12 kinds of fruits and wearing polka-dotted clothes—practices adopted from the Chinese—bode prosperity and good fortune. Then, there’s the tradition of creating deafening noise, to scare and ward off evil spirits, so that after the din dies down, the good spirits can take over one’s domicile.

When I was a lot younger, my siblings, cousins and I were determined to make each Bayung Banwa noisier and more riotous than the last. We start by fabricating a kanyun kwayan (bamboo cannons), pre-selected and dried months earlier, conveniently sawed off from our bamboo grove at the back of our house. The nodes are opened and a hole is punched into one end of the 5 to 6 foot long bamboo. To make the bamboo cannon boom , one has to apply kalburo (calcium carbide) into the hole, blow in some air, and ten light the hole with kerosene using a stick. The resultant explosions were enough to make our neighbor’s carabaos sleepless the whole night!

When spare money came along, we would buy watusi from the corner sari-sari store, named after a dance craze from the 1950s. Activated by friction using our sandals, watusis spark and sizzle in any direction, thus giving adults a cause for (fire) alarm. Just as exciting were the trianggulos—triangular firecrackers wrapped in brown paper with a short wick. My Ingkung Dandu used to light these from the 2nd floor of our house and drop them harmelessly below. We prefer aiming these on our flock of ducklings, sure to cause a quacking rampage and an unfortunate victim or two. Bigger firecrackers like bawang and whistle bombs were not permitted in the house; they were just too dangerous and expensive for our means.

We were allowed though, to play with lusis (from Spanish luces, or lights)—wire sparklers which we favored over asthma-inducing Roman candles. I rememeber buying a boxful with the classic blue and red packaging illustrated with a woman holding a sparkler in a pose reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty (or that lady in the Columbia Pictures trademark). As an added dramatic flourish, we would often throw our lusis in the air as the sparks died down, simulating a falling star. One such New Year memory almost became a nightmare when my younger brother threw his lusis stick in the direction of a neighbor’s house. The lusis landed directly on the dry, thatched nipa roof, causing our hysterical neighbors to scream for help—and water!

More harmless though were the turutut (recycled from rolled celluloid film strips), tansan tambourines and wooden clappers, made in the shape of palo de tsina guns. Empty tin cans strung with wires to our bikes were also a way to raise ruckus in the neighborhood without spending a single centavo. Nowadays, noisemakers and firecrackers have become more sophisticated, assuming imaginative names like Judas’ belt, super lolo and whistling cow. There was one year, I think, when a special firecracker was named after a popular dance move—Macarena—although I don’t think this will ever replace the watusi in popularity.

Now that we’re older, we’re not necessarily wiser. With end of 2003, I wish to invite everyone to look back, even as we look forward to the New Year. Remember, those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Just think of those firecracker victims whose bloodied fingers are shown on TV every year!

MASAPLALANG BAYUNG BANWA KEKO NGAN!
( 27 Dec. 2003)

79. PASKU NA NAMAN!

SEASON’S GREETINGS. Christmas cards originated in England in the mid 1800s. The tradition was brought to the United States and the practice was introduced to the Philippines. Here, a custom-made photo postcard (pre-dating commercial cards)shows a young Guagua beauty framed by a horseshoe (a good luck symbol) with a traditional “Merry Christmas” greeting. Circa 1920s.

Whether you are young or old, Christmas is always a magical time and a lot of my pleasant, deep-seated family and hometown memories are pegged on the Yule month of December. For us elementary students growing up in the ‘60s, the month ushered in a long vacation that started on the 15th of December all the way to the 1st week of January’s Feast of Atlung Ari. But before we got to enjoy our hard-earned break, we had to complete certain school activities and duties associated with the holidays. That included the expected parol project for our Industrial Arts class. For a week or so, we whittled bamboo sticks to make the framework for our 5-pointed star lantern. With a bit of gogo paste, tinsel and papel de japon, my classmates showed off their skills with elaborate creations: multi-pointed stars, figurals, Japanese-style, triple-tailed lantern varieties. The more advanced students even had mobile lanterns that were wind-activated! For those hopeless with pliers and knives like myself, the frameless cartolina box lantern was the easy solution.

Our classroom also had to be decorated with Christmas ornaments, budget permitting. Red folding paper bells (usually bought from Atching Tali’s stall outside the school), were hung on door beams. Poinsettias were hand-drawn on the borders of the blackboard with pink and green chalk. A pop-out paper belen of the National Book Store variety, was the centerpiece of our room. Of course, our bulletin board displayed our hand-made Christmas card collection, products of our art education class, fashioned from Oslo paper, colored paper (6 for 5 centavos), palara glitter (from cigarette wrappers) and library paste. A mushy dedication copied from some old commercial Christmas card was handwritten with a ball point.

And the Christmas school parties!
This was the best time yet, as we got to wear and show off our party clothes instead of uniforms. Our parties were the usual “bring-your-own-baon” types but I do remember one occasion where we contributed one peso each for a smalltime caterer who prepared for us spaghetti with Mafran ketchup sauce and thin slices of Philips sausages. Our “Kris Kringle” culminated in a major “exchange gift” ceremony, highlighted with the revelation of your “manito” (gift sponsor-partner) . My favorite gifts included Curly Tops chocolate (already boxed for 75 centavos), hand towel and soap or toothbrush set, bought from Ong Sin Siu, our local neighborhood Chinese store which carried everything from groceries to perfumes.

Back home, our Christmas décors were more spectacular. From soap-decorated twig Christmas trees and coconut fiber trees, we finally got a silver tinsel tree (courtesy of our American friends, the Dandridges) from Clark, complete with an angel topper! We copied all the available American traditions, hanging red net Christmas stockings (packed with Brach’s candies, mini-chocolate bars and plastic toys) and putting our gifts under the tree. I still remember my favorite gifts: a harmonica, a tube of Tinkertoys and a coloring book featuring all the presidents of America, ending with Kennedy, which I still have. I also recall attending one dawn mass at our Mabalacat church where I was transfixed at the sight of the newly spruced up and brightly-lit Nativity altar. Mary, Joseph, Jesus and even the shepherds and animals seemed so alive and animated while a shrill soprano sang endless “Jesu!Jesu! Jesu!” to the accompaniment of violins. Last time I checked our belen, the shepherds and their flock of animals have all been removed from the altar, with the starlit background inexplicably changed into a bright daytime scene.

By Christmas morning, while there were no more gifts to open, we looked forward to receiving Ingkung’s aguinaldo envelopes containing crisp P5 bills. Sadly, in 1968, this tradition came to a stop with his death in December, our bleakest Christmas ever. Thereafter, a whole day of feasting and receiving guests followed, with platefuls of kalame ubi, bibingka, panara and ensaymadang Malolos eaten and shared. But, as always, time runs fast when one is having fun; before we knew it, it was back to the normal grind for us—plodding through school, work, summer, Holy Week, the typhoon season, All Saints’ Day-- until the coming of the next merry Christmas!

MASAYANG PASKU AT MASAPLALANG BAYUNG BANWA KEKO NGAN!
(20 December 2003)

78. LOST HOME ARTS

TOO MANY COOKS. A Home Economics class in Guagua emphasizes the importance of culinary arts in maintaining the perfect Kapampangan household. Under the watchful eye of their teacher, young girls learn the rudiments of cooking using coal-powered ornos or ovens. Circa mid-1920s.

In my elementary days, one of our first-week assignments was to bring pakiling (or isis) leaves to class. Pakiling leaves, when dry, have the texture of sandpaper, and it was our task to clean and smoothen the surfaces of our wooden desks using these leaves and sudsy water, making “isis” until the wood was rid of pencil scrawls. Handling these bristly leaves was definitely tough on our delicate hands and I simply detested this back-to-school ritual. Thank heavens, I didn’t have to scrounge around for these rare pakiling leaves—an old tree grew at the back of our house which provided me with these cleaning staples—the same reliable pakiling leaves that mothers of yore had used in cleaning wooden floors, banggeras and pasamanos.

Back in our Spanish colonial days, running a household efficiently was a challenge, what with the bahay na bato’s numerous rooms to clean, gardens to maintain, and loads of laundry to be done. The home arts of the era also included needlework, confectionary and music. Cooking entailed various kitchen tasks including daily marketing. Hence, the moneyed doña of the house often hired individual lavanderas, cocheros and cocineras to assist her in running the affairs of the house with the least of efforts. Household helps were paid anywhere from 3 to 5 pesos a month, while specialized Chinese cooks commanded more, getting as much as P20 monthly. Stay-in muchachos provided all-around help—from housecleaning and gardening to whisking flies off the dining table during mealtimes.

Normally, the first task of the day was daily marketing which was personally handled by the lady of the house who kept a tight pamalengke budget of 50 centavos to 2 pesos (early 1900s rate), ably assisted by a muchacha. Back in the kitchen, the doña orchestrated the sorting, cleaning, chopping, dicing and cooking of ingredients for the noonday meal. The kawas, tacho and other cooking implements were kept in tip-top shape with found cleaning materials like sand and ash. Fragile crystal was handwashed with bath soap and the first rice washing. A 1930s cookbook even had a special section on domestic arts—Kabaluan King Pamibale-bale (Household Knowledge). It featured tips on cleaning household items like silverware, with the ingenious use of chalk: “Kailangan ingatan mayap ding kasangkapang pilak. Iti ing gamitan yu: 4 a tasang tisa, pabukalan king ½ litrong danum. Parimlan at dinan 1 onzang ammonia. Basan ing kapirasung basan at iti ing ikuskus kaibat kuskusan yung mamuza o bulak” (One needs to care for silver well. These are what you will use: 4 cups chalk, boiled in 1/2 liter water. Cool and add 1 oz. ammonia. Wet a piece of rag to wipe the silver clean, then wipe off with cotton).

Housecleaning, on the other hand, was done at all hours of the day. To bring out the shine of wooden floors, a mix of melted candle wax, kerosene and achuete (for coloring) was boiled to serve as floor wax. After application, the floors were buffed with old burlap (langgotse) bags often with kids joining in the cleaning. Children were made to sit on the rags band dragged around the room! The bamboo slatted floors of humbler nipa homes were shined with banana leaves. Other cleaning aids included the ubiquitous plumero (feather duster), palis tingting and bunut made from coconuts.

Pieces of furniture were also polished with coconut oil while mirrors were cleaned with starch paste which was then wiped off with wet rags after application. Katol was advertised as early as 1928, so dealing with mosquitos was no problem. Bedbugs or suldot were another thing. To kill them, boiling water from a kettle was poured into the crevices of beds and sulihiya covered-seats. Iron grills were sure to be rust-free when cleaned with coconut oil and kerosene mixture.

Laundry was done in a wooden batya, using the speckled blue and white sabun intsik to rid clothes of dirt and grime. Other stain removing aids before the advent of modern day deodorants included kamias, kalamunding and sunlight. Tina, a blueing agent, brought out the whiteness of clothes, while gogo, local commercial starch, was used to stiffen butterfly sleeves and barongs. After drying, clothes were ironed on a dulang or pakabayo, using a plantsa korona, an open circular flat iron (sometimes made of brass) loaded with live embers. Care must be taken in applying the iron as sparks from the live coals can sometimes escape and burn holes on fabrics! To ensure that the plantsa glided smoothly, it was made to run on banana leaves every now and then.

The American regime offered a glimpse of hope for homemakers, as modern concepts in the areas of sanitation, scientific inventions and culinary arts were advanced and applied. It was only a matter of years before the Kapampangan household—as was true for every home in the Philippines--was magically transformed into a modern showcase of efficiency and design.
( 13 December 2003)