CHURCHES

There is a dream I love to recall that makes me sleep in my sleepless nights. It is a dream that begins in the twilight of day when leaves of acacias droop and the heads of hens stoop as they gather their chicks in the warmth of their wings.  It's that time of day when the water buffalos are tied to posts of barns and the horses are given sugar syrup brought from PASUDECO. Twilight has a calming effect on the people of my barrio; and the smell of food makes them climb their creaking stairs made of bamboos. Hurriedly for dinner.  But I am sentimentalizing here, eh? I'm sure you get my drift. All I want to say is - it is beautiful to spend twilights in my barrio. 

All these elements start the dream I will be talking about. It is a dream I want to write about. And I dreamt it first in America....

I am standing on Crossing Street in Lubao. It is twilight. And there is a tall mountain in front of me... which is odd... there had never been a mountain in front of Crossing Street Lubao.  There are houses on the slope of the mountain. Beautiful houses. Twilight turns into star-filled night and I sit by the window of my childhood house. Then I  see the star- lights take multiple colors, mild in brightness. A lady I don't recognize come swinging in the sky, in a square structure made up of lights. And that's all I see, a lady in the sky swinging in heaven. 

Why this image lingers in my mind, I will never know. I seldom remember dreams. Except this one. It soon becomes my sleeping pill. Instead of counting cows and posts to fall asleep, I re-imagine this dream. Then I sleep like a baby.

The recollection of my dream would not occur in mind until the last two days of my vacation in my hometown. Since my homecoming was an emergency, I failed to bring anything useful except a few clothes and a few dollars. I then bought a disposable Kodak camera to help me keep a few mementos of my brief Pampanga sojourn. I could not help but take pictures of Pampanga churches. Only because these are the only things that haven't changed to my eyes since I left. On my last two days, I  dragged my brother from Lubao to San Fernando to Bacolor to Olongapo. Every time I saw a Catholic Church I took a picture of it.  I did not get tired in doing so.

There are at least two things in the Philippines that will remain fixed for many centuries to come : her Culture and Churches. She may be in the worst of times,  the best of times; her generations will come and go, just like her politicians of different colors; she may deteriorate into one of the world's poorest or progress into the wealthiest; she may have writers great and small. But no amount of  Time will obliterate her centuries of Culture and Churches. That's why I write these notes and take pictures of her churches. I know someday a different Philippines will emerge - and I may have no more relevance to it. It is important for me to write my piece and put pictures on the web because I will pass. But I want to make sure that I will pass telling everybody  how I love her Culture and Churches. 

The longer I stay in America the thinner is my hold to my country. My grandparents' generation is dead. My parents' generation is slowly dying. Every time I go home, the barrio I left behind is becoming more and more unrecognizable to me. The people I used to know - half of them have either gone abroad or died. The new family members being introduced to me, though dear to my heart, have nothing in common with me.

So I visit the Churches - yes thank God for Churches! These are the structures - together with the fields and mountains - that still hold the link between me and my past. A lot of my family members want to impress me with new malls, colleges, universities, beaches, etcetera - I really don't care about these. Those I find abundantly in America. What I want in my country is her - just her.

The church of Lubao is the second oldest church in the Philippines. The moment I step inside this church I live my childhood all over again.

Bacolor Church reminds me of Pampanga resilience - even in its ravaged and humiliated existence, this church keeps her head up high insisting to stand where she had been standing for centuries - no matter what.

Which is not far from the now famous Cabetican Church whose stone Saints have been dug up from the lahar surfacing like resurrected angels.

And of course, the church of San Fernando -this Church never fails to redirect me every time I get lost in San Fernando. It is a most accessible church.

Now, in relation to the little dream I narrated at the start of this article, I want to tell you something that is odd (to me at least).

On my way to Olongapo, I asked my brother where to get the best view of the City. His wife, who is from Olongapo, advised me to go to Olongapo's Grotto. The Grotto is at the top of one of its mountains and once up there, the whole city is visible to the eyes. 

On our way there, I see the origin and source of my beautiful dream. On the road leading to The Grotto is a mountain. On its slope are houses.

On the right I climb the mountain and near its peak is The Virgin Mary. (Now, I respect the Virgin Mother but my Catholicism has always been peppered with Protestantism). She is standing there watching the whole city of Olongapo. 

Maybe my mother brought me here long time ago...but frankly I can't remember being in this Grotto before. I can understand the mountain being present in my dream but The Lady swinging in the sky?

It's just so odd to dream of something that gets too close to reality. Here is the view of Olongapo from The Grotto. You probably have an opinion about this little dream I have, well then, just keep it to yourself.

  Alex Maskara Is Pinoy

Volume 1