‘Simbang Gabi’

By Al S. Mendoza

WE called him Papang (my beloved father). His friends and close kin called him Tonyong (Antonio). Had he not died in 1990, Papang would have turned 91 today.  He was as strong as an ox, until cancer struck.

He and Ermin Garcia Sr. were friends.

“I went to his wake twice,” I remember my father telling me when I was in high school (maybe he said that, sensing I’d one day become a journalist?). “I was one of the thousands who brought Ermin, my hero, to his final resting place.”

Indeed, fate also has a way with mortals. For, who could have predicted I’d write for this great newspaper? Jun Velasco? Ah, maybe. Jun V is a Nostradamus fan, I guess.  For the record, Jun V it was who went to Ermin Jr. on my behalf.

“We also need a jerk to spice up our opinion pages,” Jun V was supposed to have told Ermin Jr.

I hope that tag remains since I had my baptism of fire here in 2004.

Honestly, I’d never thought   I’d land here.  Maybe Papang, Jun V’s dear friend, had asked Ermin Sr. up there to consider me?

Anyways, I remember Papang because his birthday today is my yearly reminder that Simbang Gabi is with us once again.

Christianity tells us of a story about farmers rising up from bed early to beat the crowing of roosters.  They’d assemble in a chapel – or whatever it was they called back then that served as a gathering place in the early days – to give thanks for the bounty of an approaching harvest before proceeding to the wheat fields.

Misa de Aguinaldo was Simbang Gabi’s old name.  How it became Simbang Gabi still remains a puzzle to me.  For one, Simbang Gabi literally means Night Mass.  For another, the Mass from today till Dec. 24 begins at 4 a.m. How Aguinaldo became Gallo (Misa de Gallo) is another thing. Everything’s a misnomer, indeed, but do we really have to question things all the time?

Our faith in God even if we don’t see God is anchored on our submission to the power of God’s mysterious ways – thus, we must also learn the art of accepting some things as they come.  We can’t be doubting Thomases all the time: We don’t see, we don’t believe.  We don’t see corruption, but we believe corruption happens right there at the corridors of Palace power – then and now.

My father died virtually penniless. But he kept saying he had no regrets. He worked his butt out as an honest Public Works employee (foreman) till his retirement day.

Ermin Sr., the eminent founder of this paper, died by the bullet defending the dictum of truth in writing.

They will be among my chosen ones in my plea for God’s grace from today onwards.

* * *

THIS one’s for Neil Bravo, my kumpadre from Davao:

Yes, Pareng Neil. Floyd May-weather was overmatched against Ricky Hatton.  Although unbeaten in 43 fights before he faced Mayweather, Hatton finally met his Waterloo in Floyd. Hatton’s one-dimensional fighting style of attack, attack, attack is absolutely inferior against a fighter like May-weather, who can both box and slug – the reason the American was also unbeaten in 39 fights before he fought the Briton on Dec. 9.  Definitely, I had predicted Mayweather to knock out Hatton. Rightfully, the knockout came mercifully in the 10th, when the Briton looked spent from his constant, at times, wild assault. You tire yourself attacking in wild abandon, you easily become target for a sure knockout.

How come Hatton had compiled 43 straight wins before his encounter with Mayweather?

Well, maybe Hatton had fought mostly his cousins and neighbors willing, but sadly, blind enough to prop up their own.

In Mayweather, Hatton finally met the real Macoy.

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