Buyog

Let me tell you 'bout the bees and the beach. At the beach the other day, I watched these bees engage in a torrid and passionate encounter. I spared no time in capturing the moment on cam. Smack of voyeurism! Well, it isn't unusual to see lovey-dovey twosomes cuddle each other under shades of verdant trees or in secluded spots of the beach. The beach is by far a favorite tryst for romantic couples. But this is the first time I caught sight of bees doing their thing at the beach. Makes me wonder, has the beach anything to do with it? Does the beach have the same romantic effect on man, animal or insect?

I have no answers but this much I can say - how's that for saying here's my word of advice: Next time you feel like doing it at the beach be careful when laying down on those grassy mounts or be ready to be stung by busy bees. There's the buzz!

Mañanita

One of the few Hispanic traditions that had managed to survive to this day in Zamboanga City is the practice of singing salutatory songs to someone celebrating his birthday before he rises early in the morning. I say this because, though few and far between, I still get to enjoy hearing these enthralling morning renditions in my barrio.

I owe it to a mawkish coterie of barrio women and a few pious men, almost certainly belonging to some parish league, for keeping the tradition alive. They gather together to rehearse a well-kept selection of morning songs in some neighbor’s house where the younger of kin come to learn and join in the singing and hopefully will keep the tradition going.

Their trained voices will be heard with the strum of the guitar in the wee hours of the morning as they sneak up at the celebrant’s doorsteps to rouse him melodiously from his sleep. The song that goes … how beautiful is the morning, is often sung first, followed by a motley collection of birthday songs and some of the celebrant’s favorites as well. It is customary for the celebrant to offer his well-wishers something to eat and drink after the singing like native delicacies served with tea, coffee or ginger ale.

Unlike a serenade sung in the evening for a beloved, it is considered folk song sung before sunrise on a person’s birthday. It is popularly thought to be of Mexican tradition. The practice however came to be associated with the Roman Catholic Church Cursillo Movement that originated from Spain in the 1940’s. Its repertoire took on many localized versions with its spread in the Philippines.   

Chavacano songs have evolved and grown through the years from the No Te Vayas and Zamboanga Hermosa of long time ago, the popular ditties of Titang Jaldon, the unforgettable tunes of the Major Chords, the romantic ballads of Marc Velasco, to the recent explosion of rap and pop music produced by Chavacano bands. But the local musical landscape with its kaleidoscope of sounds can further take on new patterns by drawing on our traditional songs and music of an upbeat Mexican format.

Our posture as Latin City of Asia provides yet another outlet for such songs. I’m referring to “Combanchero” type of music with its lively and danceable rhythmic sounds. Who can deny our musical affinity with such Mexican songs as El Racho Grande, Cielito Lindo, La Cucaracha or La Bamba? Do we not feel they are as much our own? Well, Chicanos and Chavacanos do share a lot in common.

Catumbal

One of the little, known pleasures of our local dining experience comes from adding chili pepper to our dishes. Its pure pungent flavor enhances the taste of every dish it touches.

Every food loving Zamboangueño would admit to a certain fondness for chili pepper. We keep a handful of it to go with our favorite gata nangka (young jackfruit cooked in coconut milk), sinigang (fish stew), kilawin (marinated raw fish) or plain sawsawan (vinegar sauce) for the asao pescao (broiled fish) and latu (seaweed salad).

Satti, a concoction of steamy hot chili sauce poured on pasty rice cooked wrapped in coconut leaves and eaten with bits of grilled beef or chicken on sticks, is the de facto culinary delicacy of Zamboanga, regardless of ethnic or social background.

Chili pepper is commonly used in Filipino cooking. Siling Labuyo, the small but devilishly hot pod, is the pepper variety common in the country. Besides being a popular food condiment, chili pepper leaves are also used as vegetable especially in our native chicken soup tinola. Certain regions of the country like Bicol in the North and most regions of Mindanao in the South are known to be liberal users of chili pepper in their dishes.

Chile pepper has also defined the national cuisine of many of our epicurean Asian neighbors: Malaysia, Indonesia, India, Thailand and the list goes on. But once upon a time, oriental dishes were ugh – maybe not quite bland but very likely not as hot.

While Asia is the recognized hotbed of spices, chili pepper originated from the Americas. It is unrelated to black pepper (we call pimienta) and just so named pepper by colonizers who found its taste similar to its European counterpart. Yes, we have European explorers in the 1500’s to thank for launching expeditions in search of spices. In those days spices were as coveted goods as gold and silver. It was at the height of the spice trade when chili pepper was introduced by the Spanish from Mexico to the Philippines from whence it rapidly spread into other parts of Asia.

Chili pepper is a hardy plant and thrives untended. If you ever wondered why chili pepper plants just grow around without you cultivating them, well we have the birds to thank. Chili peppers reproduce by pollination and do it best when birds eat their seeds. Birds do not have the receptors to feel the heat of chili peppers and their digestive systems do not harm the chili seeds. They can consume mega-doses and distribute the seeds in the process.

I never grew chili peppers all my life but along with the birds, enjoyed picking the fruits year-round from my backyard. But unlike the birds, mammal-me can’t help propagate the seeds as through bird droppings.

There is a little known village in the outskirts of Zamboanga that goes by the name “Sitio Catumbal”. I wonder if indeed there’s an abundance of chili pepper in the place. Most towns are named by what can be found in profusion from there. Or perhaps it may be because the people in the place are just predisposed to eating a lot of chili peppers. On a sly thought, could it be, it may be, well, maybe - a vague allusion to the seductiveness of the locals?

Having pricked my own curiosity, I have a sudden bird’s instinct to swoop down on this village in search of chili peppers and while there, forage for what else that’s hot. But for now I’m not about to engage in more chili pepper analytics, lunch is waiting with a bunch of freshly picked chilies on the table, I’m simply going to give in to its pure palate pleasures.