News in English

[Pastilan] Jingle bells and Duterte’s spells

Christmas in this country kicks off in September and stretches well into the New Year. But who are we kidding? It never ends! It feels like the entire nation collectively agreed to make Christmas less of a holiday and more of a never-ending fiesta that no one can’t escape from.

We’re on the fourth month of Jose Mari Chan jingles, twinkling parols (Christmas lanterns), endless parades of mall sales and all the traffic jams that come with them. By December, even Santa’s looking to file a restraining order.

I love the Filipino dedication to it. By the time December 25 rolls around, we’re not so much celebrating Christmas as we are surviving it.

This year, it’s not just about surviving the holiday madness. It’s also the season of accountability. The House of Representatives just handed us a Christmas miracle: they’ve recommended charging ex-president Rodrigo Duterte with crimes against humanity. Finally, some semblance of holiday justice.

And it’s not just Duterte. There’s a whole sleigh full of alleged accomplices — senators Bato dela Rosa, Bong Go, and a supporting cast that could be mistaken for the Avengers of impunity – except that, instead of saving lives, they were stacking up body counts.

Let’s hand it to Duterte. During his reign, while the rest of us were stressing over gifts and carolers, he was out there redefining “silent night.” And by “silent,” I mean permanently silenced. Thirty thousand people silenced, all in the name of his “war on drugs.”

What was done wasn’t a war — it was more like a “cleanup.” You know, like when a kid spills juice and just throws a rug over it.

There’s that infamous “Davao Template” — a reward system for kills. You kill someone, you get a bonus. “For each kill, you get free iced coffee!” What’s next, murder points on a rewards card? That’s not a justice system.

Of course, the excuse: “Nanlaban.” They fought back. Sure, they did. If someone’s trying to kill you, that’s what you do.

“Nanlaban” has always been such a convenient excuse. It’s no different from one claiming, “Oh, the fella I was robbing just walked into my knife…30 times.” Sure, parekoy. Sure.

So, some cops were getting tips for each kill like waiters who bring you the extra fries. “Here’s P20,000 for your trouble!”

Tips for the boys. Tips! Tips? Imagine that. You’ve just blown the brains of a bunch of people, and some big shot with an ugly nose comes up, pats you on the back, and says, “Good job, ‘Dong. Thank you for your service. Now, here’s your tip. Go buy yourself a watch and more bullets.” 

Roasted pig and carolers

But let’s not dwell on crimes against humanity. After all, it’s Christmas. A time for family, forgiveness, and overpriced lechon. Yes, the Filipino Christmas feast, where the main dish in many homes and parties is a roasted pig, and the side dishes are guilt and hypertension. Honestly, our food is delicious, but every plate comes with a cardiologist on speed dial.

The noche buena of those who can still afford it is a midnight meal that’s less about any heaven-sent messiah and more about how much cholesterol they can pack into one evening. By 1 am, everyone’s passed out, and the lechon’s just sitting there, judging them. “Judging them?” Oh, please. The pig’s been roasting over charcoal for hours. Yes, you read that correctly. A whole pig, lying on the table like some kind of sacrificial offering to the great gods of overconsumption. 

Midnight arrives, and they’re not sitting in church. No, they’re standing in line for the most grotesque display of culinary excess. Everyone’s holding their breath, like they’re waiting for some holy revelation to drop from the heavens. Then the moment arrives, and boom — all dive in, as if the lechon will somehow cure world hunger. 

People gather around it, eyes gleaming, carving off chunks of meat, fat, and crispy skin with the fervor of medieval knights fighting for the Holy Grail. What is this meant to signify? A humble celebration of a child’s birth in a stable? Probably not.

For me, the real spectacle lies in the carolers — the real MVPs of the season, kids banging on the gate at 10 pm or much earlier, singing off-key renditions of “Jingle Bells” with enthusiasm. You give them a P1 coin, and they immediately sing, “Thank you, thank you, ang babait ninyo (you’re all very good), thank you!” 

Babait? Really? They’ve just been given a coin not even enough to buy a piece of candy. Honestly, I love the spirit, but let’s upgrade the budget. These kids deserve more than 1990 vibes. Maybe a GCash transfer?

Despite all the absurdity, there’s something magical about Christmas in this country. It’s chaotic, loud, and over the top, just like the country itself — messy, flawed, unapologetically alive. You may not always understand it, but you can’t help but admire the passion.

We’re in a magical season this year where everything is amplified to its fullest, from parties and festive celebrations to the usual political theatrics. Whether it’s caroling or politics, everything is done at full volume. 

This year, it’s setting the stage for a plot twist: accountability. A little over two years after he stepped down, who would’ve thought this was coming? Duterte’s reckoning. Not from some foreign court, no, but from the very people who once kissed his behind! Now, suddenly, the House of Representatives, the same House that enabled him, recommended charges against him.

So here’s to a season of justice, lechon, carolers, and lanterns bright enough to guide prosecutors to Davao City. Merry Christmas, Philippines!

May our nights be silent, but not too silent. And may politicians like Duterte finally learn the true meaning of Christmas — and accountability. Pastilan.Rappler.com

Читайте на 123ru.net