CHRISTMAS WHAT?

A Short Story
by Samu Batara (1985)

Bragg! I must have accidentally dropped the pair of scissors to the floor. As
expected, it stole attention.
“Are you cross, Mang Ruby?” joked Sonia.
“She’s just in a hurry to go home,” countered Eden.
“Her mind must be floating somewhere beyond the blue sea,” laughed Joy,
her eyes steadily fixed to her working hands.
“It will, of course, be a blue, blue Christmas without him,” Cynthia sighed,
her sight still glued to the paper she was curling.
“You are at it again, “I intended to scare them with a harsh voice, but it
turned out to be a murmur. I exerted extra effort to change my failing voice as I
stretched a cut crepe paper. “Enough is enough.”
“No!” Joy exclaimed. “We can’t leave this undone.”
“Don’t postpone for tomorrow what you can do today,” the proverbial
Cynthia recited.
I threw my gaze up the ticking clock on the wall. “Fifteen more minutes and
I must go,” I declared.
“Mang Ruby, please,” it was Sonia pleading. “We won’t be very popular to
Ma’am if she finds this unfinished when she turns up in the morning.”
“I leave you four to play with the finishing touches,” I persisted. “It’s
simpler to do than applying make-ups on your faces.”
“If you compare this one with the entry of the Commerce Department, this
doesn’t come to a third,” judged Cynthia.
“Only an nth of the high school’s bet,” the mathematician Eden added.
“You can work all night to decorate it,” I sounded, this time, more like a
mother assuring her kids. “Fill it to the fullest, so to speak, with your artistic
personalities.”
“You pretty well know, Mang Ruby,” Eden faced me with shrugging arms.
“Without you around, we will just be laughing at each other’s work again.”
I was quickly reminded of the hard fact that the Christmas tree we were
beautifying had been started two weeks back. Unsatisfied with the drag, the

1
Education Department Head singled me out to lead these four lady students to
get the tree ready for the forthcoming Christmas program for the whole college.
Part of which is a Christmas tree and lantern contest to be participated in by all
departments.
Sure enough, the lesser number of hands produced quicker results.
Recipient of almost a thousand pesos of expenses, our entry was a certain winner.
All that was left to discuss at the department’s meeting was the students’
contribution towards hospitality to members of the board of judges and other
guests attending the program. I would still have to coordinate with the men
students assigned to prepare two entries from our department to the lantern
contest portion.
“Do you happen to know if the old boys have made our lanterns?” I asked
no one in particular.
“You will have to work with them, too,” a duet or rather a chorus.
“I’ll check with them tomorrow after our department meeting,” I promised.
“As far as I’m aware, they have not done a thing,” warned Joy.
“None of the boys has contributed towards materials for the lanterns,”
Eden guessed.
“It should have been better to have the Christmas tree and the lanterns
done jointly than assigning one to the women and the other to the men,” I
muttered in desperation.
“Cheer you up, Mang Ruby,” it was Joy again. “At least, we are sure to win
with our tree.”
“Don’t count chickens by the number of eggs,” Cynthia got her proverb
wrongly stated this time.
“Sisters, I really have to go,” I pronounced my valediction. “The last trip to
our place leaves in ten minutes.”
“You can sleep with us at our boarding house, just for once,” offered
Cynthia.
“Thank you, but that’s out of the question,” I declared. “My sweet little
darlings will worry to death waiting for their student mom.”
“How many have you made?” Sonia jokingly asked.
“She’s got two,” broadcast Eden. “A handsome prince and a striking
beauty.”
“The king wouldn’t be pleased to miss her queen too,” Sonia laughed.
“Mang Jun is an OCW,” Eden replied. “The mother-in-law stays with them
and looks after the kids when Mang Ruby is not home.”

2
 “That topic is not that important to you, dear friends,” I announced as I
stepped out of the College of Education office.
A few books in my embrace and a shoulder bag dangling by my side, I ran
down the winding staircase. As quickly as I appeared, the gate guard flagged
down a tricycle for me and shouted, “Solsona.”
“Thank you, Gordon,” I said as I came to the hearing of the guard.
“That’s alright, Ruby,” he said. “Remember my Christmas gift.”
“It’s not Christmas yet,” I replied. “You should come caroling at home to
collect it.”
“Is Jun by chance home this Christmas?” he queried.
“Not a slim chance,” I shook my head as I lowered my head and stepped
into the sidecar. “He’s only done two years of a three-year contract.
“He promised me a Christmas present when he left for Saudi,” I still heard
him shout as the tricycle revved its engine away.
Gordon and Jun were next to buddies when both my husband and I were
earlier enrolled in First Year BSEd. Jun seemed to wear invisibility cloaks and
transcend the gates then even when he was not in student uniform.
That was a decade or so ago. Jun and I were just steady, as other admirers
of mine described it. But the magic of Christmas must have cast the spell upon
me. June lavished me with expensive gifts. And after that very memorable
Christmas ball for Education students, I could not just resist when he asked me, as
my present to him, to spend the rest of the night with him in a nearby lodge.
If only my wise friend Cynthia was there to spell out for me the saying that
regrets always come last. Not that I regret being married to Jun. He has been a
very responsible husband and father. But we could have postponed the
premature tie up to allow us to complete the courses we had just then started.
The journey of my thoughts to irreversible bygones was interrupted when
the driver brought the tricycle to a halt and said, “Your ride must have departed,
Ma’am.”
“It must have gone for a fill of fuel… Thank you.” I offered him a couple of
coins and brought a foot down to the ground.
“How about my Christmas, Ma’am?” the cyclist bargained.
“Have a merry Christmas, darling,” I sounded as sweet as I could and looked
around for familiar faces. Obviously there were others who had usually travelled
with me in that last trip for each day to our village, the remote barrio of Solsona
called Bagbag. The trip had never left earlier than 6:00 o’clock.

3
 Among the faces, an overly popular one caught my fading memory. My legs
trod a couple of steps for me to be easily recognized.
“Ruby!” she was obviously surprised as if we have not chanced at each
other for a century.
“Sandra?” I made myself sound as if surprised as I let my cheek touch hers
for a tiny moment. “How are you ma’am?” I smiled or more of a laugh.
“-M-a-a-m, or m-u-m?” she spelled with a grin as wide.
“I heard you are teaching in a city school.”
“Pila Elementary School, to be exact, Master Teacher two,” she boasted.
“Lucky you. I’m still a student.” I was not ashamed.
“So I heard,” she countered. “The mommy student.”
I had learned to accustom myself and accept the fact that I was too old for
an undergraduate student. Sandra was my classmate in a number of Education
subjects before I left college to get married.
“Who are getting married?” I pointed to her embrace of nicely gift-wrapped
multi-sized boxes.
“No one,” she corrected. “For your information, dear Ruby, these are
Christmas gifts.”
Of course, I was silly to have asked when I had earlier noticed the make-up
of the wrappings as those scattered dark red wreaths with season’s greeting
largely printed all over.
“Is there one for me?” I joked.
“Yes, but you will have to send a six-by-six truck to haul it,” her usual sense
of humor.
“Good on you, Sandra,” I intoned with a more apparent sincerity. “You have
done your Christmas shopping.”
“Well, bit by bit,” her face beamed with pride. “I still have to come with the
whole family, very soon. It’s not advisable to wait for the shopping rush. Buyers
dramatically swell in throngs to a peak as days draw closer.”
“All I have bought for Christmas are ready-made frames and Japanese
paper for two small lanterns,” I honestly shared. “My girl and my boy are each
required to work on them as projects in school.”
“I bought some ready-made lanterns from the provincial jail the other day,”
my friend cast the news. “They were beautifully done. I wish I could buy more.”
“I gather they get more orders than what they can supply,” I ventured. “The
price must be beautiful too.”

4
 Our news sharing was abruptly cut by an elderly man among the waiting
passengers. “We will have to wait for four hours or so”, he announced. “The
jeepney that usually makes the last trip was hired by the SK of Bagbag”, referring
to the association of youth. “It was loaded with a public address system, extra
large bass speaker boxes, and disco lighting gears. There was no room for any
passengers so they promised to return for us.”
“That explains it.” I told Sandra as my coconut calculated the hours. “The
ride will be here at ten and deliver us by twelve. Poor little kids,” I made reference
to my darling angels who would not go to sleep without their mother praying with
them and kissing them goodnight at bedtime.
“Can you wait that long?” Sandra asked.
“If I have my way, I cannot,” I replied.
“Let’s hire a tricycle and share the bill between ourselves,” she suggested.
“Okay,” I decided instantly. “But hang on. My only worry is the leg of the
trip between your place and mine, if I will be left alone with the tricycle driver the
rest of the trip.”
Sandra and whatever family she might own, stay a few barangays away
before ours. She thought for a moment and then said, “I’ll ask the boys at home
to give you company and be dropped off by the same ride on its return flight.”
“That solves it.” I raised my right palm to hers.
Sandra beckoned a tricycle. After a short transaction, we struck a good deal
regarding our contingency plan. We hit a bargain from an opening price of two
hundred pesos for each down to three hundred fifty for two. The driver again
begged for his “Christmas” on top.
The thought of home sweet home at the close of a rather hectic and
stressful day simplified an agreement. And the joy of being shoulder to shoulder
with a lost-and-found friend made the three-wheel journey along a concreted but
deserted highway bearable.
Luckily, it was a typical moon-lit December night. It was easy to recognize
the bits and pieces of wonderful nature we passed by. The overused
thoroughfares familiarly unfolded before us with almost daylight clarity that no
demon could possibly mislead us to confuse our way.
During the trip, Sandra and I noticed and talked about all kinds of Christmas
lightings displayed – flickering, twinkling, racing, hopping, dimming, ascending,
descending, fading. Name it, and every house and tree donned it. Lighted multi-
colored lanterns hang down roofs and trees. Bright Christmas trees towered over
front lawns, stairs and doorways. Quarreling voluminous stereo sets vomited

5
unpleasant noises of familiar Christmas carols. And to everything, an excited
Sandra endlessly recited a litany: “That’s nice!” “I like that one” “I’ll buy one like
that.”
My attention was more attracted by sceneries beyond the man-made
decorations. Grains that crowned rice fields swayed in harmony with the evening
breeze in the soft glow of the full moon which ruled the starry skies. The dark
blue mountain crawled like giant cattle grazing over green meadows. I was doubly
certain that beyond the roar emanating from the trike’s engine, insects and birds
sang a melody that dwarfed a mother’s lullaby. The wonderful creator, whose
becoming human the earth celebrates, made the world simply beautiful.
True to her promise, Sandra marshaled large human physiques to escort
me through the rest of the trip. The three wise men later changed their minds
from returning immediately. They rather danced the night by at the barangay
multi-purpose pavement. It was a social dance intended to raise funds for the
forthcoming barangay Christmas program and ball to be hosted by the
Sangguniang Kabataan, the Youth Council.
As soon as I stepped a foot into the door of our tiny, unfinished bungalow,
Saniata and Bagnus raced to my embrace.
“Mama, Bagnus was crying for you,” Saniata related. “He thought you were
not coming home anymore.”
“Sorry, darling.” I comforted Bagnus and pressed my lips onto his cheek.
“There was no ride for Mama because it was used to bring that loud music you
now hear.”
“Lola brought us there,” Bagnus started to cheer up, pointing a finger
towards the direction of the source of the amplified noise. “There is a dance
there, Mommy.”
“Mama, you know,” Saniata almost poked my eyes with two fingers raised
to my face. “At the program in school, I will dance in two. My ma’am says you buy
me leotards, tights and ballet shoes for the modern dance. For the folk dance, you
buy me maria clara and slippers like old ones.”
“I dance one, too, Mama,” Bagnus overtook her sister’s listing. My ma’am
says you buy black pants, and the barong and black shoes.”
“And Mama,” Saniata raised a silencing palm to her brother. “Ma’am made
us six groups in class. Each group brings Christmas tree for homeroom contest.”
“Have you finished covering your lanterns?” I asked when I had a chance to
butt in. My mind had stopped calculating the cost of the kids’ orders as I stood
from a squatting position and led both by the hands to a bamboo sofa.

6
 “You buy more covering paper and paste, Mama,” more of a duet.
“Mama, we wrote our names on paper bits,” Bagnus gestured with his tiny
hands. “My ma’am put them in the box and she let everyone pick one. I got Elena.
Ma’am says I will give Elena present with fifty pesos price.”
“We did the draw lots too, Mama, Mama,” Saniata took her turn. “I picked
that naughty boy Antonio. Ma’am says we give a gift no less with seventy five
pesos price.”
“Ma’am says you will wrap me three gifts in all,” Bagnus lifted open a trio of
tiny fingers. “One for Elena, one for ma’am, and one for the prizes. We will have
the Christmas program in the class, and there will be contest for singing and
dancing, and the lanterns we are making.”
“We went to Rita’s house at recess time, Mama,” Saniata looked too eager
to share the news. “And Mama, you know? They have a big Christmas tree in the
sala. Rita says her big sister bought it at SM in Manila. Plenty gifts under it.”
“You must make one Christmas tree too, Mama,” Bagnus pleaded. “So
Santa can put the gifts under it on Christmas night.”
“Yes darling,” my fingers ran through his hair. “Just be a good boy, and a
good girl, and the two of you will get your Christmas presents. By the way, have
you eaten already?
“Yes, Mama,” they chorused.
“Lola cooked something nice.” Saniata continued. “And we ate when we
could not wait for you any longer. We were already hungry.”
“Thank you, Nanang, for all your patience,” I threw my glance to my
mother-in-law who was in the process of rearranging chairs to make room for her
transient beddings. “I must put them to bed. It’s already quite late.”
Bagnus and Saniata, who were already in grades three and four
respectively, shared a bedroom. The modest dwelling we were proud to call our
own had only two bedrooms anyway.
“Saniata, it’s your turn to lead the prayer, sweetheart,” I directed as soon
as I had covered each with a bed sheet.
“Dear Father God,” she intoned. “Thank you for getting Mama home
tonight. Bless Mama, Father God, so she will make our Christmas tree. Please
bless Papa in the far away place. Make him send the money Mama will use to buy
me and Bagnus the clothes we use in the dances, and the gifts for our friends and
teachers. And Father God, please tell Santa to bring us gifts. Bless lola, that she
will help Mama prepare the things we need. Good night, God. Good night, Jesus.

7
Please let us know what you like to receive for your birthday too. Make us sleep
well and tomorrow we are strong to go to school. Through Jesus’ name, we pray.”
“Amen,” I joined my little angels in a chorus, thankful that I had put off the
room light earlier. They would have noticed the tears welling out my eyes.
“Oh yes, Mama?” Saniata must have remembered something valuable.
“Promise not to get angry and I’ll tell you something.”
“I promise, darling,” I whispered, afraid my quaking voice might be
noticeable, yet eager to hear her revelations. “I’m sure you have been a good
girl.”
“I saved the money you give for my snacks three days. And I bought a
Christmas card we send to daddy. It’s in my school bag. This afternoon, Bagnus
and I wrote the letters you will insert.”
Too weak to utter a word, I just brushed my lips over each one’s cheek. I
needed to reassure my daughter I rather appreciated her thoughtfulness. I
gleaned the remaining grain of courage. “Thank you, sweetheart. On Christmas
day, we will all go to Laoag and talk with daddy by phone. Sleep well. Good night,
darling. Good night, sweetheart.” My last words were more of a murmur as I gave
each a pat.
Quietly, I rejoined my in-law in the dining-con-kitchen-con-receiving room.
She was already flat on the mat spread in one corner.
“Nanang?” I checked if she was awake yet as I maneuvered my way through
the dislocated furniture to the dining table. She had served supper which was
already waiting for me.
“Are the kids asleep already?” She asked.
“It’s quite late already,” I muttered. “Their sleep schedule has been
disrupted.”
“I led them to bed,” she informed me. “But when they asked me to pray,
they seemed not satisfied with just Our Father and Hail Mary.”
“You could have asked one or both of them to lead it. But they might have
been worried about my delayed arrival. Blame the youth and their social dance.” I
briefly related the hassles I had been in coming home.
“Boyong came, wanting to borrow a paint brush,” she changed the topic.
“He said he was going to paint a maguey flower for a Christmas tree.”
“The paint brush..,” My memory strolled over a few gone days. “Has not
Inggay returned it yet? One who can buy paint can obviously own a paint brush.”

8
 “Kumare Loring also came pleading for a loan, thinking you were around,”
she recited. “She said her daughter needs the money for a Christmas ball for
nurses. Cora is taking nursing…”
“She is at NCC,” I rescued mother. “Trouble is people think we are a bank or
even a printer of money.”
“Apo Tesorero also came,” her recitation seemed endless, enough to see
me through my rather late dinner. “He was collecting household quotas for the
Christmas festival at the town plaza on Christmas Eve. I gather the barangay folks
will make a float with the Belen that will carry a Mary and a Joseph for the
parade. He also mentioned lanterns and Christmas trees and folk dances for the
contests. And some of the money left from decorations go to trophies for winners
and food for guests. When he could not wait for you he said he would return first
hour in the morning.”
“Whatever happened to Christmas,” I said it more to myself. “It has
become intramurals.”
“I’m quite tired, Nanang. Let’s get some sleep,” I issued the invitation as I
carried the dishes to the sink. “I’ll wash these in the morning.”
“I cannot sleep with all those bombings around,” she complained, referring
to the fire crackers exploding near and far.
“Just plug your ears with something, pillows,” I sympathized with her. My
mother-in-law had suffered once from a mild cardiac arrest. Loud sounds are not
healthful to her in any way. “Excuse souls who don’t know how to get rid of their
money other than setting it on fire.”
My bed appeared so desolate. I wished my head was as empty. I laid myself
down and started to murmur, “Yes Lord, soon it is your birthday. Forgive how
easily we forget the simplicity of your birth, fail to understand the humility it
means, and miss to welcome the serenity it brings.”
It was only then that my ears clearly deciphered voices beamed by loud
speakers in the neighborhood. “A la una, six hundred fifty pesos… A la una y
media, six hundred fifty pesos… A las dos, seven hundred over there…”
After a while, the trumpeted crescendo erupting out of the social dance,
the deafening explosions of fire crackers, all became a matter of fact. So carefree
and resting was the approach of sweet slumber. ###