The Light Rail Transit Line 1 (or the yellow line) runs from Baclaran, Paranaque to Monumento, Caloocan. The whole line traverses the cities of Paranaque, Pasay, Makati, Manila, and Caloocan. In my intro blog about survival in Taft I mentioned a few survival tips on crossing the street. This time I will mention how to fight for your dear life in Baclaran. No wonder it’s a terminal station of the LRT. Only one of you will survive.
Baclaran is, of course, not known for baklas, but as a source of cheap clothing and all kinds of wares from China and the Philippines, ornamental plants from Tagaytay and Laguna, deceptively delicious palabok, and statues of Sto Nino with his signature peace sign. I think the descendants of the doomed Tower of Babel are breeding in Baclaran right now. The place is teeming with people. Go there and life, literally, will suffocate you. It should be an event in Survivor.
Anyway, if Quiapo is empty without the Black Nazarene, Baclaran is meaninglessly cruel without the Our Lady of Perpetual Help, shrined in the Baclaran Church (run by the Redemptorists). My mother would often bring me there, whether to instill some piety in me or to block off potential snatchers, I’m not sure now. But Wednesday is the Novena Day to the venerated image, and wow, the place really bursts at the seams, without the testosteronce-charged procession of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo. The church is more contemplative. As a kid I would stare at the high ceiling of the Church, and count all the balloons accidentally released by stupid toddlers. Sometimes I counted them. I also tried to count bats hanging out in the ceiling. There is now a small house right outside the Church with a replica of the image. Devotees would light candles and put them in long receptacles. On a Wednesday, the whole place is lit with candles, and yes, it was like going under the launghing pad of a NASA rocket during lift-off. As a kid i often participated in this ‘lighting’ contests– I prayed to God that my candle would outlast the ones beside it, haha. I’m thankful that my mom brought me there: now I appreciate Church architecture (although I miss the balloons).
After mass or novena, my mom (my dad worked abroad) would bring me to the palabok station, inside a tiangge across the Church. That is if I managed not to lose my mom in crossing the street. The palabok was inside a palengke, so the 3M rule (malinis, masarap, mura) was at work! That is, you can only combine 2 out 3 adjectives (kung masarap at mura, hindi yon malinis). I never got typhoid or disentery but I think my cranial capacity got reduced to writing blogs.
I went there two months ago and there have been major improvements. There are now CCTVs in almost all pillars inside the Church so that people attending mass or the novena can follow the prayers and songs. There are now more guards at the entrance. And of course, a lot more devotees, praying for work abroad, family reconcialiation, or Manny Pacquiao. Interestingly enough, at the end of the Novena (I visited there on a Wednesday) the lector mentioned statistics (as in hard data!) of prayer intentions: work, family, exams, personal peace, forgiveness, etc. It was flabbergasting! She even read a chosen ‘thank you’ letter from a devotee.Towards the end of the novena a missionary nun shared about finding her vocation and answering God’s call. I think it’s a good practice, so that more people find and answer their vocation to the priesthood and religious community.
Yeah, life is taft. But Our Lady of Perpetual Help (Ina ng Laging Saklolo) is here with us.
