Christmas at home
Tonight, after the revelry and excesses of our family reunions, let us think of what we can do to ensure that every Filipino can sleep in security and heavenly peace, every night, for all our lives.
This is my first Christmas at home in six years. The past Christmases I have spent in Sydney, my second home where my older daughter and her family live. Every year I have looked forward to spending the holidays with my grandchildren Diego, Luis and Maya. And what a grand time we’ve had just being together, decorating the house, trimming the tree, shopping, cooking, baking, eating, wrapping and opening presents, and spending hours at the dinner table chatting, exchanging jokes, playing board games.
In Sydney, the world is my family and my family is the world. It is my happy place where the toxic realities here at home do not exist. When I am there, I leave everything behind — deadlines, bills, the crowded malls, the Christmas rush, the traffic and toxic politics, among others. I do not allow any bad news to darken my holiday. We do not even bother to watch CNN, which I did not believe was possible. But on vacation mode, I just stopped bothering with the news.
My annual trek Down Under is my hiatus from reality as I know it, which I look forward to every year. But this year I signed up for a job that culminates in January which meant I would be chasing deadlines over the holidays. So I went to Sydney in October for my annual escape. It was a great time to be there during my grandchildren’s spring break. There was no pressure to shop for presents and we just basically vegged in front of the giant TV screen watching movies and TV series on Netflix.
Now I am home for the holidays after six years and it feels like an entirely new experience. I’ve moved to a smaller, cozier place that has no space for a Christmas tree. And the fear of traffic and my deadlines keep me home a lot. Thus, shopping for presents has been spotty and fruitless.
But the Belen has been installed and lighted up and the house has the warm, familiar scent of my mom’s cookies baking in the kitchen. And I am enjoying the cool December air in Quezon City, so unlike the scorching heat of Sydney in the summer, that made Christmas there feel less Christmassy.
I have this strange feeling of abandonment realizing that out of 10 siblings, only three of us and our families would be having Noche Buena together, because everyone else is abroad with their kids and grandkids -— forgetting that all those years I spent Christmas in Sydney, only two families were usually in Manila and they didn’t even get together during the holidays.
But what have really affected me this Christmastide are the realities in our country that I have not been able to ignore, unless I stop watching TV news, or seeing siblings and friends, most of who are keen social and political observers. Two weeks before Christmas, on human rights day, I was faced with uncomfortable and inconvenient truths at a forum on the results of a study of the effects of the government’s war on drugs on the orphans of its victims — as many at 10,000 according to government but more like 20,000, say human rights advocacy groups.
At an average three to four children per victim, there are at least 30,000 to 40,000 up to 60,000 to 80,000 orphans of tokhang, depending on which source you believe. I wonder, how they are spending Christmas day? According to the study, although most of them do not have ideal family lives — domestic violence being common in such homes — they still look forward to Christmas, no matter how meager. But if they had little in the past, I fear they have next to nothing today.
The children of tokhang live in fear. They are angry and seek justice, but being poor, they feel powerless and insecure. They fear the police, and even their friends, whom they are afraid might have become assets of the authorities for a few easy pesos, who would point out possible drug users, sellers or just plain family members of suspected druggies. They don’t know who to trust.
They have fallen deeper into poverty since they lost a parent or sibling and are forced into adulthood prematurely, being responsible for the family by getting a job and trying to keep everyone together against great odds. They live with the stigma of being anak ng natokhang, and are in constant fear for their lives. But they continue to hope in the goodness of God and of others.
Asked what they would want to be when they grow up, many of the young boys and girls, ages 12 to 17, want to be police officers — the good kind, they say, but add, someone who has a gun and is empowered to use it. Sadly, some of them have revenge in mind.
On this Christmas Day, as we settle into the warmth and safety of homes and families, let us also think of the orphans and their widowed parents created by the seemingly random violence in the country. How are they dealing with Christmas? What can we do for these, the least of our brethren? How do we address their urgent needs to survive, to deal with trauma, and heal psychologically? How do we help address the fear that they live with and ensure their security and protection? How do we stop the cycle of violence that will surely grow out to this unholy war on drugs?
If these concerns are not attended to now, they will become the baggage of the future.
Tonight, after the revelry and excesses of our family reunions, when all is calm and all is bright, let us think of what we can do to ensure that every Filipino, especially the underprivileged, can sleep in security and heavenly peace, every night, for all our lives.
Have a blessed Christmas.
