Wedding of '67

It was the typical Tagalog or, to be more precise, Batangueno wedding of its time. I mean, groom or his parents paid for everything—the feast, the flowers, gowns for the bride and her entourage, etc., etc. Exchange of vows took place in the parish church. Reception followed at bride's home. And so on and so forth. But what happened before the ceremony and the after-celebration? Say 24 or 48 hours before the big day? I was so lucky to chance upon a few very old photos that gave me a picture of some of the preparations that were carried out for my parents' wedding that early morning in September more than 4 decades ago.

I imagine that part of the street fronting our motherhouse must have been closed to traffic to accommodate guests. (I remember we closed that same street for a good 9 days before when my lolo and lola were hermanos mayor during a town fiesta—the one with the famous parada ng lechon—when I was around 8.) There must have been more than a hundred guests. Because that’s our head count for major present-day family gatherings and to think so many relatives were still alive at the time.

The woman with the laddle in the background was the cook obviously. And there seems to be quite a big group of ladies assisting her. See all that meat? Kilos and kilos of different kinds of meat, suggesting that the wedding was quite en grande. By the way, all these were cooked in giant wok-like utensils called tulyasi.

The chop-chop women must have been friends of my lola or maybe some were neighbors. That was a time when the spirit of bayanihan was still very much alive among people living in proximity to each other. The svelte lady in the foreground still managed to look fashionable in spite of her unglamorous surroundings.

How many pigs were slaughtered? How many chickens? How many goats? (Take a closer look at the background.) In my hometown, having one goat dish served during a social event was like some sort of status symbol or some indication of the importance of the occasion. The goat, usually in the form of calderetang kambing, always occupied the same prominent position as the lechon on the banquet table.

Are those really lifeless goats hanging in the background, you may ask. Yes. Exactly how many of them were sacrificed for my parents' union? I bet just enough to warrant protests from PETA had the pro-animal rights group been in existence at the time. I remember when I was 10 I witnessed the slaying of a helpless goat in our backyard for my sister Odie's 7th birthday. It was a pitiful sight and, believe me, there were tears in the poor animal's eyes. But then that didn't stop me from eating goat meat. I still do up to now. Okay, stone me. But hey, this isn't about me, right?