The feast day of the Immaculate Conception is now a special non-working holiday

Republic Act 10966 "declaring December 8 of every year a special nonworking holiday in the entire country to commemorate the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, the principal patroness of the Philippines," was approved by President Rodrigo Roa Duterte on 28 December 2017.

This Act originated from the House of Representatives was passed by the House and the Senate on 02 May 2017 and 11 December 2017, respectively. A copy has been posted on the online version of the print edition of the Official Gazette (see picture below). 

RA 10966 as posted on the Official Gazette webpage.
http://www.officialgazette.gov.ph/downloads/2017/12dec/20171228-RA-10966-RRD.pdf

This will make twenty-one (21) national, regular and special (non-working) holidays to be observed in the country this coming year, 2018. Twenty were listed in Proclamation No, 269 that Duterte issued on 17 July 2017. 

Some of these fall on weekends: 25 February (EDSA People Power Revolution Anniversary), 31 March (Black Saturday), and 30 December (Rizal Day).

Two dates have yet to be set for the observance of national holidays Eidul Fitr and Eidul Adha, which depends on the Islamic calendar.

RA 10966, in a way, revisits legal and school holidays of Philippine past.

The feast of the Immaculate Conception was not in the school holidays prescribed by the Royal Decree of 20 December 1863, which created the "normal school for teachers of primary instruction for the natives of the Filipinas Islands," but there were other religious feast days included.

The decree provided that "the holidays of the normal school shall be Sundays, feast days, Ash Wednesday, the day set aside for the commemoration of the faithful dead, and also the saint's days and birthday anniversaries of their Majesties and the prince of Asturias, and the saint's day of the superior civil governor," and "the shorter vacations shall extend from Christmas eve to Twelfth-night, during the three carnival days, and from Holy Wednesday until Easter. During said vacations, the resident scholars shall remain in the institution."

When the Americans set up the school system, the schools were allowed fourteen weeks' vacation each year, two of which were the usual Christmas break. In addition to these regular vacations, an Act from the United States Philippine Commission established the following holidays in 1902:

          New Year's Day - January 1.

          Washington's Birthday -February 22.

          Holy Thursday - March 27.

          Good Friday - March 28.

          Independence Day -July 4.

          Occupation Day - August 13.

          Thanksgiving Day - November 27.

          Christmas Day -December 25.

          Rizal Day - December 30.

In addition, the following church fiestas may be observed as holidays by the schools:  

          Epiphany, or Three Kings' Day -. January 6.

          Purification of the Blessed Virgin -February 2.

          Ascension Day -May 11.

          Corpus Christi Day -June 1.

          Assumption Day -August 15.

          All Saints' Day -November 1.

          Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary -December 8.

However, in a proclamation of the General Superintendent of schools on 10 August 1904, the feast of the Immaculate Conception was not included in the "second holidays" for public schools. It retained the Marian event of  02 February, and the patron saint's day of the town was added.

The 1904 listing comprised the Epiphany or Three Kings, January 6; Purification of the Blessed Virgin, February 2; Ascension Day, May 1; Corpus Christi; Assumption Day, August 15; All Saints' Day, November 1; patron saint of the pueblo, one day only.

The women who went to Catholic schools for girls do remember that the feast of the Immaculate Conception was no-classes day. Thus, they were excited when they first heard that a law declaring this a holiday was under discussion in the Seventeenth Congress.

References:

• Blair & Robertson. 1906. Royal Decree establishing a plan of primary education in Filipinas. Appendix: Education in the Philippines. The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898; Volume XLVI, 1721-1739. http://name.umdl.umich.edu/AFK2830.0001.046.

• Atkinson, Fred W. The Present Educational Movement in the Philippine Islands. Chapter XXIX. Report of the Commissioner on Education For 1900-1901. Washington: Govt. Printing Office. 1902. http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahk8492.0001.001

• Philippine Civil Service Board. Calendar 1904-1905. Manual of Information relative to the Philippine Civil Service.  Manila: Bureau of Public Printing. 1904. Page 3. http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acf2655.1903.001

• Department of Public Instruction. Bureau of Education. Appendix H. Some of the circulars of the General Superintendent. Annual Report of the General Superintendent of Education. September 1904. Manila: Bureau of Public Printing, 1904. Page 97. http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acs9512.1904.001.

• The Government of the Philippine Islands. Dept. of Public Instruction. Bureau of Education. Appendix E. School Calendar. Seventeenth Annual Report of the Director of Education. January 1, 1916 to December 31, 1916.  Manila: Bureau of Printing, 1917. Page 129. http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acs9512.0001.017

• Fifteenth Year Rosenstock’s Manila City Directory 1917. Vol XXIII. Page 143.  http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acs9103.0001.001

• Legal Holidays. Manila and the Philippines. American Express. Page 102. 1933? http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9173.0001.001

'Naimbag a Pascua' (A Good Christmas) in boyhood country

The municipal hall of San Narciso, Zambales a-glitter with Christmas lights this year (2017).

    

More than a half a century ago, Pascua (Christmas) to us kids in the old hometown seemed to take too long in coming. When we learned to reckon its approach with the onset of the 'ber'-months, we had already lost the pure, innocent joy of waiting.

We can’t remember exactly what our great expectations were while the nights were turning colder, and we would need to wear a pranela (sweater) when we go caroling or simply prowling around with the neighborhood kids. 

We were told to be good so that Santa would bring us gifts come Christmas.  We have no recollection if Santa Claus ever came at all through the windows or the galvanized iron roof of our house of buho walls and bamboo stairs.

By November, our Inang (mother) would be having more sewing jobs to finish.  Her customers, friends and relatives, would be dropping by to have their dresses sewn for the Misa Aguinaldo (midnight mass) on Christmas Eve.  She would stay till late at night to fulfill her commitments, sparing enough time for her and my five sisters’ own clothes as these would be done last.

Memory tells us that we always wore a white polo shirt on Christmas.  Inang took care, we now think, to shield us from the usual taunts, no matter how friendly these were, that loud colors do not seemingly match our earth-brown skin tone.

In those days when we went to school in wooden clogs, and later in rubber sandals, Christmas was the only occasion when we had to wear shoes despite our heavy protestations.  Many a time did we suffer blisters at the back of our feet.  Probably, it’s because parents did not do much personal shopping then.  Unless they did, the bilin (request) system was deemed most convenient whenever a close friend or relative was bound for Manila or Olongapo.  They would trace our feet on a piece of paper and cut this out.  The shoes might fit the pattern correctly, but it did not assure the comfort of poor little kids who should look their angelic best on Christmas day.

Far from our childhood Christmas trees. These are competing 12-ft trees in our town's contest.

In our six Christmases at the San Jose-Patrocinio Elementary School, our Christmas tree, just like in most of the pupils’ homes, was the lowly kuribetbet shrub shorn of all its leaves.   Bands of green crepe paper about two inches wide were cut and then folded along its length.  Narrow strips were cut perpendicular to and along the fold, taking care to go just about halfway, and when done, the bands were spread open and refolded the other side to yield a leafy effect.  These were then wound around the stem and branches of the bare kuribetbet producing an evergreen tree on which to hang colored, usually red, paper balls and bells.  

Industrial arts projects in December invariably would be a parol (lantern), usually the simple bamboo star.  We would cover our projects with colored Japanese paper or cellophane and attached the rayos (rays) made of the same paper at two adjacent points of the star.  Sometimes, we would put a rim attached to all five points of the star.  Some would put a belen of cardboard at the middle, or some other decorative paper cut-outs all over.  When schools closed for the Christmas vacation, we would bring home our lanterns to be hung at our windows.

At home, we always had these breakable decorative balls to hang.  During those years, when the dollar exchange rate was taymes tu  (times two) yet, Inang would ask aunts married to US Navymen to buy these things for us in the navy commissary in Subic.  They had buying privileges even when their husbands were away at sea.  At the end of each season, Inang would have less decors to keep for the next year since the Christmas tree toppled over several times, or because we loved to look at the warped reflections of our faces on the balls’ surface, and we broke several of them.

In some houses, swaths of white cotton would be attached to the tree branches probably inspired by pictures of trees laden with snow in Christmas cards, which were all imported at that time.

We also made chains using crepe paper of various colors to wind around the tree. Tiny blinking color lights around the Christmas tree or hanging from the eaves of roofs were not yet in our imagination.  Electricity came around only at six o’clock in the evening, when the Ramos Electric, the power company of richer relatives, turned on their diesel generator to light up San Narciso.

We always asked Inang why we couldn’t have an aru-o (local pine) branch for a tree, just like what we saw in other houses.   We soon found out that this would not be evergreen at all. The needles would turn brown even long before the start of the Misa de Gallo or dawn masses (‘simbang gabi’ or night mass to the Tagalogs; we don’t know why), and would be scattered underneath before Melchor, Gaspar and Baltazar ever reach barrio Alusi-is.  Christmas would not end until January 6 when the Three Kings lead the parade from Alusi-is.

In later years, the bare kuribetbet would be painted all white, probably as a matter of fashion rather than as tangible proof of one’s ‘dreaming of a white Christmas.’  In high school, we did this as a matter of convenience; it did not take long to finish it.

Our childhood gift ritual was never that exciting.  We can’t recall ever jumping and yelling with glee when we found a gift lying beside us when we woke up in the morning of December 25.   We probably would get only a car model to be pulled with a string.  The girls in the family had dolls but not the walking and talking types, and Barbie was not yet born.

Our generation started schooling with English as the medium of instruction.  Our first Christmas song was “Silent Night.”  Thus the Christmas jingles that came with the early evening air in our childhood days were the strains of ‘ol is cam, ol is brayt’ as we, the neighborhood kids, went house-to-house caroling about the oli impan (holy infant).   We were happy with a five-centavo caroling token from each house.

Stingy house owners though would get a musical rapping from us --

            Bulong ti apatot,                                   Leaves of apatot plant,

            Paskuayo a naimot.                               Gifts to stingy people.

            Umulog ti makarurod                           Come down if your angy,

            Ta narnaran ti dandanog.                     And we’ll beat you with our fists.

-- as we ran away, scared that they would come down and face our dare. 

Friends who can hum the tune and sing some of the lines remember that they heard it first from their grandmothers.  Some words in the lyrics are archaic Ilocano.  This suggests that the carol is older than San Narciso, and might have been brought by the settlers all the way from Paoay.   

The chorus of the indigenous carol is an invitation to celebrate the Lord’s birth and to proclaim his power and glory –

Rambakan tay a pada-pada                        Let us all celebrate

Panakay-yanak to Dios ditoy daga             the birth of God on earth.

Umadani tay met kenkuana                        Let us all go to Him

Idir-i tay tan-ok ken gloriana                     proclaiming his power and glory.

The two narrative stanzas speak of His humility and mercy --

Ay dimtengen a ti Dios Apo                      Ay, the Lord God has come

Simnek kaasi na kadatayo.                       Because of His mercy to all of us.

Ti Mesias manipud ngato                         The Messiah from above

Immay nga'd la makipagbiag                       came down to live with us.

     kadatayo.

Maysa a rukib a paglinungan                   A cave that serves as shed

Ti kinayatna nga makapanganakan,        He preferred to be born in;

Ket kuloong met laeng piman                  And merely a manger

Ti inna pinili a nagid-daan.                     He chose to sleep in.

Before “Ang Pasko ay Sumapit” became the de rigeur anthem at the close of Midnight Mass, churchgoers sang the “Rambakan” in cheerful chorus as they troop out of church, greeting each and everyone along the way with “Naimbag a Paskuayo!”

Paskuami, Apo!  On Christmas Day, this is the salutary greeting of children going from house to house seeking gifts.  As a young boy, following Inang’s stern orders to just go to one’s relatives or godparents, I would be back at home in due time to hand out candies to fellow youngsters.  Cousins would stick around for a while hoping that Inang would instead give them a 5-centavo coin or two.  

Lucky are the kids whose godparents are around at Christmastime.  In my time, very rarely did I see my ninongs (godfathers) and ninangs (godmothers), real and surrogate, this last one being the wives of my ninongs.   Two of my ninongs were US Navymen, and when they came home to retire, we were old enough to talk to them in a buddy-buddy way though we still addressed them, with proper respect, 'ninong.'

Agmano (take his or her hand, and place it on your forehead) was the order of the day, whether you were calling on your godparents or older relatives, to show your respect.  Deep in your heart you wish all the time that they would add to your coins in the pocket rather than candies, and worst of all, suman paskua.  

Before refrigerators came to town, much to-do was given for the salapusup, preparing and wrapping glutinous rice into the suman paskua.  This delicacy would be kept in baskets that are hang in the kitchen.  There was no danger of spoilage; in fact, the suman tasted even better after a few days.   There would also be platters of leche flan resting on milk cans half-submerged in a basin of water to keep away the red and black ants.

Food for the Noche Buena would be cooked before the older ones left for the Misa Aguinaldo at midnight.  Unless we were properly motivated to join them to church so that we can watch the ‘walking star’, a parol pulled from the choir loft to the nativity scene in the altar, we would never be able to partake of the midnight repast. 

Sometimes there would be queso de bola, but we now think that these were put on the table to serve as décor. They would remain uncut even onto the New Year when it would serve a superstitious purpose, being red and round.  We preferred the taste of other cheeses like the ones that seemingly melted on the tongue.

Some families might serve ham, which their visiting kin bought from the popular stores in Chinatown or Quiapo in Manila.  But generally, there would always be special dishes of pork or chicken.

Pan americano, or suman, or puto, or the kutsinta ordered from Baket Tirsing would be sufficient to go with the meats and coffee or chocolate.  

Imported castanas, apples, pears, oranges and grapes were luxury food in our boyhood.  An aunt, widow of US Navyman, made sure she bought the stuff from the commissary in Subic and kept the fruits fresh in an icebox, for the family reunion lunch on Christmas Day.  

Again, chicken and pork, cooked in various ways, would be the main fare in the reunions on Christmas Day.  There might be lechon (roasted pig), quite a standard fare, no matter how long and tedious it would take to turn the bamboo pole spit over hot glowing embers.  

Year in, year out, it’s always a fiesta on Christmas Day --  the hustle and bustle around the sumptuous table, the gleeful shrieks of relatives who have not seen each other for years, the shrilly shouts of children having fun. 

Naimbag a Paskuayo! (Merry Christmas!)