The Foreign Service Journal, October 2003

72 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / O C T O B E R 2 0 0 3 In Balayan, Batangas, in the Philippines, for the last 20 years roasted pigs have been dressed up in costumes for the “Pigs on Parade,” Parada Ng Lechon to celebrate the Feast of St. John. Everyone told me to bring a change of clothes, as I would get wet. I was wondering how they could predict rain. We went to the parade grounds. There was a huge crowd and I got a great spot where the floats and crowds were gathering. I began filming the parade, which got off to a rocky start. One of the pigs decided not to cooperate — its hindquarter broke off. They tried to tie it back on, but then they gave it to an old lady. She ran to her friends and they all feasted. The first float I saw was for Mama Sita’s Reloaded. The pigs were dressed in black. Okay, I was slow ... it was for the movie, “The Matrix.” A local motorcycle dealer had a pig riding a chopper, while Mighty Meaty had their hot dogs being advertised with a red lechon. I noticed some of the lechon were covered in plastic. I was soon to see why. There were squirt guns all around. When I was a kid, the old-fashioned squirt gun resembled a pistol. Then, by the time I was a Peace Corps admin officer, kids graduated to Super Soakers. But now they had sharks, machine guns, space guns and the like. And I thought the old Ruger water pistol was cool! Everyone began shooting each other, mostly aiming at the people on the floats. The participants on the floats were ready with guns or basins and pots of their own. People reveled in getting each other wet. The floats continued to pass — the technical schools had a pig operating a computer, and a swimming pool company had pigs in swimsuits on a diving board. One of the best floats was from a hospital in which there was a pig patient and a pig surgeon. The whole parade last- ed about an hour and everyone got drenched. Then we went to the church grounds, where I met Father Totit Mandanes. He was in his fifties and dressed in shorts, flip-flops and a tee-shirt. He invited us to the refec- tory. A feast awaited us. There were various kinds of glutinous and gelati- nous concoctions, eggs, sausages, salted bread, and ... lechon. I was asked to accept the first piece. As we ate the bounty, our conversation touched on a group of recently arrived Bajao, one of the minorities uprooted from Basilan. I could see the joy on Father Mandanes’ face as he told how the church had been able to help them. We were con- vinced to buy some jewelry. Afterwards, Father Mandanes offered us a tour of the town. First, he introduced us to two young priests. As we left, they tossed a few buckets of water on us. (Priests can have fun, too.) We hid behind Father Mandanes, but to no avail. On this day, everyone was fair game. As we walked down the main street, some people came to Father Mandanes for “mano po” (a sign of respect for your elders by bowing and placing their right hand to your forehead). Then one of his parishioners invited us in for a bite to eat — a big bite: turbo- chicken, fish, puto, kuchinta, etc. This also allowed us to seek refuge from the water. Back on the street, people were still dousing each other. I was drenched. My shoes were making squelching noises. I wondered about the water. Where did the tradition start? I asked around and then did a Homer Simpson “Doh.” Water ... Feast of St. John ... St. John the Baptist. Father Mandanes explained that people were blessing each other. Now it all made sense. I was still soaked, so I was much blessed on this day. ■ There were pigs in swimsuits. Manila is Paul S. Dever’s first State Department assignment. He was with the Peace Corps in Burundi, Rwanda, Malawi and Mali from 1993 to 2000. The stamp is courtesy of the AAFSW Bookfair “Stamp Corner.” R EFLECTIONS Pigs On Parade B Y P AUL S. D EVER