Good Friday

We hit the road early this morning, stopped in Makati to visit Mister Tanaka briefly, and then joined the whole of Filipino-dom and left Manila for the provinces.

Unlike most Filipinos, who have headed to the provinces to visit family, we were heading out to find one of the Philippines' many Good Friday processions and reenactments of Jesus' crucifixion. Our destination was somewhat vague: Head north from Manila on the North Luzon Expressway; when the NLE ends, drive on the backroads until you find a procession.

It didn't take long after getting off the NLE until we started seeing small bands of men, often dressed in Jesus-like robes, carrying heavy wooden crosses on their shoulders. Our plan was to keep driving until we found a large procession. We stand out enough as it is; we didn't want to join a group of three or four people.

After 40 minutes, we finally came upon a church in Tarlac, Pampangas province. We parked the car, hopped out, and joined a large group of people who were watching the church's own procession. While the men were not wearing robes, they were hooded and had ropes wrapped around their legs. I didn't get a chance to ask the significance of the ropes.

Periodically, the men would stop to rest. While they rested, the men walking alongside would beat their bodies and their feet with sticks. Talking to some of the parishoners, I learned that this parish has been reenacting the crucifixion for more than 50 years.

After reaching the church gate, the men put down their cross, then crawled on their hands and knees into the church courtyard.

After reaching the church, the men -- still hooded -- left the church yard and were loaded into motorized tricycles. Their backs were bloody from from parishoners flogging them with bags of broken glass.

The parishoners told me that, next, everyone would watch the men "go for a swim" or "take a bath," depending on who I was talking to.

"It's about one kilometer down the road," a guy said. "Want to ride in a tricycle?"

Shelly and I did head down the road, but decided to walk the kilometer rather than ride. People couldn't believe that we were walking. Everyone else was either riding -- in trucks, in tricycles, on bicycles. After all, who but white people would walk in the midday sun? Even the carabao were standing in the shade, working as little as possible.

When we arrived at the bathing/swimming site, we found a party in full swing, and we were immediately offered plates of food. We declined, not wanting to crash the party, but did spend 15 minutes talking to two OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers) home for the holidays: a headwaiter on Carnival Cruise Lines, based in Miami, and a nurse based in London in the summer and Dubai in the winter. The two gentlemen were extremely friendly, and we enjoyed talking to them. We eventually excused ourselves and made our way back to the car, but not until we learned that the men would be crucified at the church at 2 p.m.

On our way back to the car, Shelly pointed out a tapioca plant. I had no idea what a tapioca plant looked like, and wondered how she knew.

"I lived in Palau for two years," she said.

Duh.

We hopped in the car and drove half an hour south to Clark Air Force Base, in hopes that tasty Cajun restaurant in neighboring Angeles would be open for lunch. It wasn't, unfortunately, but we did find an excellent Mexican restaurant, without question the best we've found since moving here. Many of the restaurants and bars in Angeles are owned by retired U.S. servicemen, which seems to help make them authentically American.

We arrived back in Tarlac just in time for the crucifixions. Fortunately, nobody was actually crucified -- there were no nails, though apparently some parishes do use nails in the hands and feet. The men were hoisted onto their crosses and tied up with rope, baking in the hot sunshine.

I spent a fun 15 minutes talking to the local kids, ranging from about five to 16. I was quite an attraction. Just like Japan, the girls were much more talkative than the boys. Though Shelly was hiding back in the shadows, the girls easily picked her out as my wife. Eventually, though, I decided that I was attracting too much attention, and that we should probably go.

On our way home, we pulled over on to the side of the road and recorded this procession in another town. Sorry for the poor quality of the video. That's what you get when your video camera is also your phone.






The dedication of the men we saw today was absolutely stunning.