Senakulo, commonly called Opisyo in our town, is a tradition I grew-up with. Yearly, people troop to the aplaya where the Senakulo is always held. I have only been there a dozen of times in all my years of living in Binangonan because my parents didn’t find it a good place to hang-out. They were strict.
Last night, we went out of our way to go to the Senakulo. We came from the Our lady of Peace and Good Voyage in Antipolo and passed through the rolling hills of Eastridge Golf and Country Club. We reached Binangonan at 10 pm. Edmund wasn’t happy at all that we were going but he was cooperative, understanding, although kind of apprehensive.
His apprehension grew when we were walking to the aplaya upon seeing a couple of men drinking. Some singing the karaoke. And many istambays sitting on the sidewalk na mukhang mga high.
He was leading the way, followed by Aileen, Bong, Nyke and our companion.
Edmund told me I should just have left my bag in the car.
Then he told me it’s no longer safe for me to be going in places like that. He said it’s no longer the Senakulo that I had in mind. The place is not what it used to be when I was grewing up in Binangonan when we could still recognize every person living there. Nuong araw, the people there were neighbors, relatives, the government officials, the lolo, lola, tiya, pinsan, it’s like visiting a family gathering.
People went to the opisyo to eat their favorite lugaw, pospas, palabok, dinuguan at puto inihaw na pusit, at tumaya sa beto-beto at the super fun but semi-gambling tirimbi.
I haven’t tried eating isaw.
My father had a duck farm when I was in grade school. About twice, I went with him when they delivered one truck-load of eggs to the balut factory in Darangan.
Nyke bought nilagang mani.
Aileen was craving for inihaw na pusit. Kasi nung maliit kami lagi kaming bumibili nito. Even my brothers crave for this.
I told Aileen she could buy this from the groceries to bring home to San Francisco. Meron nakatusok na sa patpat.
Maybe my standards have changed but medyo madumi na nga yung lugar. Edmund said it’s probably tambakan ng basura.
Aplaya to me is an open field with dried grass. Amoy damo. Damo as in grass, or dried dayami. Hindi dried marijuana.
I promised to dear husband that I would only take pictures then we would go in 10 minutes.
(Ano daw? I couldn’t understand some of the words.)
When I saw Jesus, I walked two steps forward to take a closer shot but I accidentally stepped on a mound of basura and putik. It really smelled so bad. I bought two bottles of mineral water to wash the mud off my left foot and tsinelas. The tinderas were shocked when they saw me pouring the water on my foot. I squirmed at the sight and feel of the dirty mud that touched my foot. Even when we were already in the car on our way home, parang nakikilabutan pa rin ako. I brought a hand sanitizer but I didn’t want to touch my foot. I soaped my legs and feet a couple of times as as soon as we got home but even while I was already in bed, about to sleep, parang nagigilaw-lawan pa rin ako.
I visited the opisyo last 15 years ago to eat lugaw with friends. And prior to that, was with Edmund a few months after we got married. Sobrang tagal na. I would probably visit again, but maybe after another 10 years.
