Weekend Wonder

It is Friday the 13th. I am hiding in my room. Tomorrow is Saturday the 14th. I am not sure if I will be coming out by then.

I fear the 14th more than the 13th.

I was born on a Saturday. It was the 14th day of the month.

My fear is not unfounded after all.

* * *

I am not really into superstitions. I like formulating my own superstitions, though. But I am not Chinese. Probably a tiny, recessive part of may be able to recognize Kanji especially since my dad’s mom’s dad’s mom’s dad is an Ongkiko—or so I remember my Nanay Isay’s story. Needless to say that the Chinese blood in me has been diluted by at least four generations. And that is just one quarter of the story.

I have no idea if my mom has Chinese blood. But she once mentioned that she attended a Chinese School some time in her life. Her story is pretty much vague to me. Maybe if I ride a boat or a plane and visit her places of origin, I would know more about her past. Or then again, I could just start listening to her and her stories instead. Maybe then will I know if I am Mao Tse Tung’s racial sister.

* * *

Since, I consider myself NON-Chinese I am not aware of Chinese Festivities such as the Moon Cake Festival which I now know exists—at least this time of year, thanks to that mini event at Megamall last night.




I was about to go home when I stopped to see the Dragon dance at the atrium of Megamall’s building A. Prior to last night I had no idea what that dance was all about. Apparently it is some mating dance and the dragons were less than subtle at humping each other. Chris, my officemate who witnessed the event with me, tried to explain what was happening without sounding offensive or, for a lack of a better term, pervert-y. Which was weird because as I have said, the dragons were less than subtle. Or then again he may be analyzing the dragons and was just thinking aloud.

The dragon dance was amazing though. I mean it is not just some dance. It was a ritual and the men inside those two dragons, they were serious about what they were doing. They must have studied and practiced their routine for, probably, years.

Those Chinese, they are all around us and yet it is only now that I really feel their collective presence. It helped that I have become a frequent visitor of Divisoria these days. I’ve talked to them, tried to haggle, and in a way established something close to friendship. And they do know how to speak Filipino. Which is good. Somehow we too are dominating their world.