A big, fat Filipino wedding

AFTER about a month of being away from her Las Vegas home to attend her son's wedding in the Philippines, my sister sent me a three-line e-mail to let me know she was back. "Sige, wala pa akong maisip sabihin (I can't think of anything to say right now)," she wrote.

I, on the other hand, knew she only needed a gentle nudge to get her going. "Tell me all about it," I urged her.

That started a feverish exchange of e-mail and instant messaging between her and me. The text filled up eight pages, single-spaced, when I printed out all the messages. The dam had broken and my sister burst with stories of her son's wedding at a "pechay" and "upo" vegetable farm some 11 miles from her house in the Novaliches district of Quezon City. Hungry for news, I swallowed every bit she threw at me and asked for more.

It was so refreshing to hear the details of a wedding that involved no catalogs, no couturiers, no rehearsal dinners, no RSVPs, no vellum-lined invitations. It was just a simple family-led wedding held at a friend's field-sized garden smack in the middle of a subdivision near the busy Caloocan City-Quezon City border. Well, actually, it was just the reception. The marriage ceremony itself had been done a day ahead at a Quezon City judge's courtroom. That is a story in itself. In a hilarious incident worthy of a Hollywood screenplay (in the genre of "My Big, Fat Greek Wedding," which I have not seen but have heard much about), the non-professional wedding planners (namely, the bride, the groom, and the family members) had announced that the wedding would take place on a Saturday. It was to be followed immediately by the reception. The desktop-published invitations had been printed and delivered stating so. Shortly before the big day, they found out that the judge couldn't perform a wedding on a Saturday because the court was officially closed. To do it on a Saturday would have required a special permit that would have taken two months to process (in typical Philippine bureaucratic speed). To wait for that, of course, was out of the question. So they had to be married on Friday.

And so it was that my nephew Charley and her new bride Mai signed their legal marriage papers one day and received their spiritual blessings from a pastor the next. (They could not be married in church because Charley was raised a Catholic while Myra was raised as a member of the Iglesia ni Kristo (Church of Christ) sect -- but that's another story.)

My sister's narrative description of the reception at the farm was long, sometimes funny, and filled with delicious details and names of people whose relationships to one another confused me. Add to this that some of their names gave no clue as to gender and that my sister, without missing a heartbeat, wove in certain events totally unrelated to the wedding.

During the 13 years I have been away from the Philippines, new nieces and nephews have been born, or nieces and nephews have gotten married and borne children. Relations have moved in, moved out, or made friends. In our emotionally charged culture, friends sometimes become so blended into the family that eventually, everybody forgets they are not blood relations at all. It took me a while to understand the entire, endearing scenario. Did I say earlier this was a simple wedding?

This is a condensed translation from Tagalog of my sister's almost stream-of-consciousness narrative, from her point of view:

"I cooked lengua con champignon, beef caldereta, embotido, laing na kuhol (the Filipino answer to the French's escargot), and fruit salad. Rowena, wife of Arman who is the son of Ter and Floring, cooked sweet and sour lapu-lapu fillet. Junie, my daughter, made buko pandan. Agnes, my other daughter, cooked pansit bihon. Ate Luding, my sister-in-law, made relyenong bangus. Omer, Junie's husband, bought a lechon. Mai's aunt made 400 pieces of lumpia shanghai. She also cooked about 19 kilos of halaya de ube, made from six pieces of gigantic ube (purple yam) dug up from the mountains of Norzagaray by a friend of Eric, Agnes' husband. The six pieces, averaging three feet long and 10 inches wide, weighed a total of 25 kilograms uncooked. The son of Dikong Juan, my brother-in-law, helped cook the ube in a borrowed humongous wok, stirring it with a borrowed boat oar. There was so much ube that we were even able to pack some for the owners of the wok and oar. During all the cooking, the friend who brought the ube taught us a vegetarian recipe using minced banana hearts. We used the recipe to extend the meat of our hamburger patties. We were able to make 25 five-inch wide patties. We also made six kilos of menudo, a must because it is Omer's favorite. We served 10 cases of Coke and 10 cases of light beer. Somebody gave 25 gallons of bottled water as a gift. There was also tossed salad and a three-tier lemon chiffon wedding cake.

"We had about 300 guests. Mai has 13 siblings. We hired a videographer-cum-photographer. Junie and Agnes did the flower arrangements and decorations. Nads, Omer's sister and owner of the farm, had all the trees and walkways decorated with lights. We rented a videoke (karaoke with video). Alvine, Agnes' teen daughter with the golden voice, sang. Somebody played the saxophone. A friend of Nads who was supposed to sing had to leave because she had a singing engagement at 9 p.m. The party was supposed to start at 6 p.m. but many people got lost and arrived late. Some people blamed the map, saying it was wrong. The truth was that a lot of people had the map upside down. So the blessing ceremony didn't start till 8 p.m. The newly weds did the sayaw sa pera (money dance). Olmos, Khaye, Alvine, and Nikoy, my grandchildren, served as ushers. We used Styrofoam plates and plastic flatware but reserved some nice plates for the five ninong and five ninang (godparents). The entourage consisted of the maid of honor and best man, three bridesmaids, and three flower girls."

Now Olmos (for "almost" -- because his real name is Nicki and he was born on the same day as Nikoy, his sister, whose real name is Nicole, therefore they are "almost the same" -- you would never have figured that one out!) is a boy. Alvine is a girl whose real name is Alvina. Khaye is a boy whose real name is Calvin Khaye. Alvine and Khaye are siblings.

"Before the party started, we watched 'Tsikiting Patrol' at Emy's house inside the farm compound. Emy is the mother of Nads and Omer. 'Tsikiting Patrol' is a children's TV show. Khaye is one of the stars. Nads is a co-producer. Emy's house was packed with guests watching a video of the show. By the way, Nikoy got a medal for Best COCC (youth military training). Nikoy starred in a play. Nobody knew about it because nobody saw her rehearsing her dialogue at home. Good thing Charley went to the play with his video camera. Alvine graduated in the top six of her class. She will also compete again in the aikido national championship. She is now reviewing for UPCAT (college entrance exams). She had a medal but I forgot to ask what it was for. Olmos' name was displayed at the SM Arcade (a shopping mall) with a score of 296 in basketball. He only had two misses. He's already been recruited to the varsity team for next year when he enters high school. He's also a killer in billiards, beating Richie (our nephew) the first time he picked up a cue.

"The party ended at 1:30 a.m. but it was more like 3:30 a.m. by the time we had packed up everything and cleaned up."

Now what kind of party starts two hours late without losing at least half of the guests, goes on till the following morning, gets everybody in the community involved in the cooking and other preparations, and is loads of fun? Only a big, fat Filipino wedding.

Romina Saha is a fulltime mom and freelance writer and copy editor based in San Jose, California. She may be reached at ConnectionsRS@aol.com.