It was the week before Easter 1972. Friends
from the
base PAO Office invited me to go to the Holy
Week celebration.
At first I declined on the grounds that I
wasn't particularly religious.
"No, no! You don't understand. It's a huge
spectacle!"
They were right.
Crowds started
gathering early.
Temperatures in
the high 80s
and rising.
Growing larger each
minute. Dusty, sweaty,
and crowded. Filipinos
and Americans, and
everywhere lots
of children.
Until it was
standing room
only. My good
friend
Staff Sergeant
Kip Cady on
the right.
First the "penitents"
were prepared -- their
heads covered with
bags and crowned with
thorns, stripped to the
waist, small cuts made
in their backs, using
whips to promote
bleeding.
Parading through the barrio, heading toward a large open field.
Past a young man selling balloons -- heightening the ironic unreality!
Don't get too close! You'll get spattered with blood.
Then from the far side of the field . . . a man in a long robe appears
. . .
he carries a cross . . . and slowly trudges to the center.
Its the big closer. Now the pushing and shoving is intense. A contingent
of guards
tries to hold the crowd back. Some (far left) are in costume, but
others look
more like the local mafia. Then the man with the cross pauses .
. .
They're not
really going to . . .
Yes, they are.
Who brought
the nails??
It's
Showtime!
Hey, that was a lot of fun.
Now let's go have a San Migoo.