Last Easter Sunday, I had the chance to watch my two younger sisters perform again for the "Sugat", the theatrical reenactment of the reunion of mother and son, of Mary and Jesus Christ. Our youngest sibling was an angel while my second youngest sister was playing the "white hands" part (or the so-called dancing-with-only-hands-covered-in-white-gloves-lit-by-black-light part).
Looking back, it had been ages since I too was part of the production. Back then, I had the presumption that one wasn't normal if one had not been an "angel" as a child (a presumption that thankfully gave me the illusion that mine was a complete childhood). Perhaps, it was a blessing that I got to be a part of that spectacle, an opportunity that always seemed available to every kid in Nabunturan.
Our job as angels usually consisted of memorizing certain dance routines choreographed by Tita Bing-bing. Then, on Good Friday, we were part of the parade of people who marched around the Poblacion after the celebration of The Seven Last Words. Since we were angels - and children - we got to ride on one of several trucks for the entire procession, chatting with the rest of the other kids and staring serenely at the mass of people below us. Finally, on Easter Sunday, we sang and danced for the "Sugat", and were treated to pandesal and "tsikwate" (choco) after the Easter mass and the customary photo shoot.
Those were good times and I feel happy having been a part of that. Nowadays, I just feel content watching those other kids on stage work their wings and those feet.
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