by Almira Astudillo Gilles
November is a difficult month. It starts with the Feast of All Souls and All Saints in the Catholic Church. In the Philippines, families and friends visit the graves of their beloved, bringing food to tide them over while they spend a prolonged time reminiscing. In the U.S., the practice of eating in a cemetery is incongruous. But Filipinos have an uncomplicated relationship with food: it is meant to be consumed, anytime, anywhere, and with anyone.
When I was very young, I had to go with my aunt to obtain a visa at the U.S. Embassy in the Philippines. We knew it would be an hours-long wait and when we were comfortably settled, she reached into her purse and produced a hard-boiled egg wrapped in tissue paper. I was too embarrassed to eat it in front of the multitude of visa applicants, so I declined.
I have, since then, been offered—and accepted,sometimes with hesitation—all types of food, by different people, in surprising places. Fruit by friends, carpooling to an event (where, ostensibly, there will also be food). Sandwiches by strangers at a pier while waiting for a ferry (even a sideways glance will elicit an offering). Noodles from a family living in a squatter area, bought in honor of our visit. Dishes arrayed neatly on the ground during a wedding feast high up in the mountains where Apo Wang Od lives. Filipinos eat when they’re happy, sad, and all the times in between. So why not in a cemetery, while crying or laughing in the retelling of anecdotes about someone no longer with us? Most likely, those anecdotes will involve food.
This November will be particularly emotional. Already two people of my generation have unexpectedly passed. November is my late father’s birth month. Thanksgiving will be difficult for me because it will not be celebrated the way I would like it to be. I am in the midst of making complicated arrangements for activities early next year. Winter is coming.
Eating is a communal activity
But the one good thing about being Filipino (or having a Filipino friend) is that you don’t have to eat alone. You can be assured that whatever it is that ails you, physically, emotionally, even spiritually, there is a culinary remedy for that. We have a wide range of comfort food for any palate.
Just look at our recipes for the ultimate comfort food, adobo. Variations are as numerous as the spices in the cook’s kitchen. Moreover, the fatalistic attitude of especially traditional Filipinos—the belief in predestiny—aligns with what Pascal has wisely said: “Little things console us because little things afflict us.” And while the departure of a loved one is cataclysmic, breaking bread with others eases the pain. It provides much needed nourishment for the body and soul, as each Filipino instinctively understands. So, are you experiencing a little bit or a lot of distress? As my lulang, my Ilokano grandmother, used to say, “Mangan tayon!”
Almira Astudillo Gilles describes her heart’s work as conservation in two areas: indigenous cultural heritage and natural resources. Her cultural heritage work includes a John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation grant for Art and Anthropology Project: Portrait of the Object as Filipino, an international artist exchange. She was the founder of 10,000 Kwentos (“Stories”) at the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago, a model of direct community engagement with the museum’s Philippine ethnographic collection.
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