Caracol In Rosario

it was the morning of the fiesta

crowds gathered in front of the old church

all agog in religious fervor and excitement

for the opening of the age-worn wooden doors

from the belfry bells clanged furiously

outshouting each other in joyful cacophony

bats rudely wakened burst out to the morning sky

scaring the sacristan pulling at the bell ropes

now emerging from the ancient portals

of the old stone Church, a big wheeled “carosa” bore the

Nuestra Señora Virgen del Santissimo Rosario de Caracol

bedecked in jewelry and rich satin robes rolled out

the swish and boom of skyrocketing fireworks

bounced off the plaza and faded as it hit the trees

while the faithful labored at tugging and pushing

the rickety carriage through the cobbled church front

cued by fireworks blast the baton was twirled and hurled

and sent hurtling back into the majorette's hand

with a shrill whistle she signaled the start of the “caracol”

and the “Banda Numero Uno” struck up a lively Sousa march

like ipil branches blown by the seaside breeze

arms and hips swayed one side to the other

shoulders to and fro, heads jerking smartly

midst cheers of little urchins by the wayside

the throng of religious “hermanas” and “manangs”

with righteous vigilance cordoned off their precious space

at the procession fringes their hands held a long nylon rope

while the other hand clutched their favorite beads

following the lead band and behind the “carosa”

flaunting their humble piety and pompous vanity

rings on fat fingers flashed counting Ave Marias

in misunderstood tongue but spiritual indulgence no less

not too far from rear of the pious ladies' group

another marching party bobbed and swayed to the lilt

of a second rate band's brassy and arrhythmic ululations

simple farmers, fishermen, vendors in honest dance

as the marching wended through the barrio

bystanders eating at street-side “caridad” kiosks

were cajoled by the paraders to join the revelry

and drop the sticky “suman” and “biko” by the wayside

at the tail end of the long procession

raucous riff raff and the town's other lowlife creatures

visibly inebriated swayed in cadence with the percussive

enticement of a mere snare drum and a tinny tympani

with both hands waving gin bottles, each sway

ending with a swig of gin and the potent “lambanog”

revelers seeking redemption and absolution dance away

accumulated misdeeds and malefactions in the year past

with the atmosphere of headiness and stupefaction

a few having one too many buckled and fell

dropping by the wayside but with the smile of the repentant,

looking innocent and with the blissful face of the forgiven

at the “aplaya”, just behind village barber's house

fisher-folks growing excitement with the approaching band

a “basnig” gaily festooned was readied to carry the Virgin

on a sturdy wooden platform lashed on massive outriggers

row on row dressed up fishing vessels lined up the shore

wide brimmed “talakop” and smaller “basnig” waved gay buntings

all in wait to board the townspeople for the “ligid”

the annual fluvial parade in honor of town's beloved Patroness

amidst shouts and cheers, our Lady was boarded on the main boat

a dozen bronze-skinned fishermen heaved at the heavy icon

planting it on a platform and lashed it steadfastly on the mast

with stout abaca ropes to secure it for the dizzying ride

with the bands now grouped as one, they struck up

a loud but tolerable rendition of the River Kwai March

mingling with the excited noise of people boarding their boats

and the staccato burst of “kwitis” in the bright noonday sky

It was a joy to watch the boats escorting the Virgin's “basnig”

as it glided on the calm waters moving towards an appointed spot

with the Virgin's boat securely moored a safe distance from shore

the “ligid” started from a standstill to making loops round and round

the “ligid” picked up pace as the band went up tempo

a score of vessels with cheering riders went on dizzying rounds

then without a signaling cue the roar of engines were cut silent

the boats continued to turn in momentum then to a bobbing halt

a young lad dived from boat side, the water went into a boil

as young men and boys all joined in like dolphins at play

some swam towards the shore and everyone on the pretty boats rode

back to the waiting bacchanal and temporal excesses on the shore

another year, another “caracol”, another “ligid” done

criminals and felons now forgiven for last year's sins

with homage done mansions above await the pious ladies and

the men assured of bountiful catches and safe faring on this year's seas

La Virgen de Santisimo Rosario is back in a chapel recess

watches over the faithful with hardened salty granules on her cheeks

everyday her hands extended for urchins and old ladies to rub their hankies

it is another long year before her moment of glory in a tiny Salinas town