GET INTO THE ACT AND FOLLOW VIC ALBORNOZ LACTAOEN, AS HE UNMASKS THE MAGIC BEHIND THE FESTIVAL OF SMILES
Of all of Bacolod’s contemporary attractions, perhaps none is so popular, so colorful and so crazy as Masskara, the world-famous October Mardi Gras. Taken from the words “mass” (meaning people or crowd), and “kara” (meaning face), the event – organized in 1980 by artists, civic fi gures and government offi cials – is a modern incarnation of a masked festival encompassing elements from the Venetian ball, New Orleans’ Mardi Gras and Rio de Janeiro’s Carnival parade.
Where It Began
As with other masked festivals, Masskara’s beginnings are rooted in social strife. The Venetian Masked Ball reached its heyday in the 18th century. While Venice spiralled deeper into political and economic decline, the gentry fed their desire to forget the turmoil of the city and mingle with different classes in the most liberating of costumes – the disguise.
Mardi Gras and Rio’s Carnival precede Lent, offering a celebration before the fasting. The masks allow an exhibitionism that strengthens regional pride and unites tempestuous cities.
Masskara’s story is similarly fascinating. Bacolod was the city that sugar built, the gateway to Sugarlandia. But after the price of sugar in the world market plunged to an all-time low 27 years ago, many haciendas and sugar processing plants closed.
There are still vast azucareras, or sugar mills, operating on the outskirts of the city, while other Old World charms are evidenced in the well-preserved 19th century mansions of sugar barons. These huge homes are exquisite and expensive signs of a very Europeanized culture that made Bacolod the Paris of the Philippines at the start of the century.
But because their wealth was built on sugar, it was the Negrenses who suffered the most when laborers were laid off; even the sugar barons had to tighten their belts. “Those were desperate times,” says former Bacolod city mayor and festival organizer Joy Valdez. “Since the whole province was dependent solely on the sugar industry, we all suffered painfully.”
What’s in a Name
The name for the Masskara festival was coined by the late Bacolodnon cartoonist Ely Santiago. He was part of the group of organizers who, instead of brooding on the plight of Negrenses, wanted to lift the people’s spirits. The idea was born to celebrate Bacolod’s Charter Day with a full-fl edged festival.
Smiling masks were introduced to encourage people to smile again; seeing a street full of smiles would surely encourage cheer and help to regain some of the optimism that had left the city along with the money from sugar.
Since then, that masked street party has become the largest festival on Negros Island, subsequently held each year during the weekend closest to October 19, the city’s Charter Day.
Festive Fun
The festival itself is a mesmerizing sight to behold. Shadows of yellow and red bunting fl utter above the streets, tickling the pavement below in a quirky dance of starts, stops and some energetic thrashing about.
As the syncopated rhythm of the nearby beat is unconsciously imbibed, spectators become part of the festival’s playful excitement: heady and ready for anything.
It is at the corner of Araneta and Hernan streets in downtown Bacolod City where the annual Masskara parade begins – a strategic spot, within a stone’s throw from the public high school, the city library and the chi-chi department store, still patronized by old-timers even though the new mall has opened and lures the young crowd to another part of town.
The air sizzles with heat and anticipation as pedestrians throng the sidewalks while awaiting the start of the parade. Some clamber onto the roofs of the waiting sheds and perch there with their umbrellas in full bloom. Those whose houses are along the route hover lazily around their verandas, extremely proud of their incredible vantage point.
“Tong-tong-tong-tong, pakitong-kitong,” begins the offi cial festival jingle, which segues to a lilting medley of Visayan folk and more contemporary sounds. And pronto! The denizens of some barangay, breathtaking in their bright green and orange, raise their arms in simultaneous splendor to fl aunt festive masks and accessories.
After a dramatic fl ick of the hand to start the beat, the contingent sways and sashays down the street, enthralling the open-mouthed crowd. Well-prepared contingent after contingent wows one and all. It’s a thrilling whirl of color and choreography, motion, commotion and those truly spectacular masks.
Getting the Party Started
Merry and mad as Masskara is, nothing beats the joy of its preparation. As early as one year to six months prior to the parade, “it is tradition that we must gather all the materials needed to produce an artistic piece, be it a mask, wings or costumes,” notes one participant.
The festival is a celebration of a multitude of faces hiding behind smiling masks. Although artistic license has developed in the process of mask-making, the majority of the masks retain a smiling expression.
Stories have it that over the years, artisans and high society have incorporated ideas they had seen in other major festivals abroad. All masked festivals, of course, drew inspiration from the earliest masks and functions in theater and religion.
The Ancient Greeks created the double masks of Comedy and Tragedy which now symbolize theater around the world. Masks were used in Greek Tragedies as means of deception, to hide for the audience the actor who might have to play numerous roles.
Certain facial features also began to stand for characters. In the Italian Renaissance’s Commedia dell’Arte, different masks became synonymous with exaggerated character types: the long droopy face of a rich, elderly merchant; a scheming servant with a long nose and sly eyes; a ruddy-faced, full-cheeked adventurer and the jolly jester or valet. Interestingly, both the hero and heroine were mask-less, suggesting they had nothing to hide.
“We joke among ourselves,” says Nilda Bagabaldo, one local design-maker of the mask and handicraft manufacturer, “if you look ugly, you need to do a lot of designing on your mask… because you have a lot to cover up!”
A Best Mask award is given at some point during the parade and the winners always have fabulously intricate designs styled meticulously onto the features.
Perfecting the Mask
Since the onset of the Masskara festival, mask designs have greatly improved from plain and simple to ornate – a little bit of folklore and a whole lot of Las Vegas. The intricate designs, opulent colors and ornate patterns of the masks are now closer to an MGM grand extravaganza than they were years back. Used as a form of escapism, these masks keep their past unseen.
And who taught Bacolodnons to make these colorful masks? One just has to take a look at the neighboring barangays and their inherent artistic talents as seen in their cuisine,
architecture and other handicrafts. Using the available resources, artisans turn out ingenious and creative masks, which are becoming distinctively symbolic of Bacolod.
In the olden days, local produce was used, with fi elds and forests being scoured to gather the right materials: coconut sprouts, colorful betel nuts, yellow, red or violet San Francisco leaves, atchuetes to serve as natural colorings, canvas for the Masskara colors and materials to be formed into moulds for the masks.
No one follows a blueprint. According to Bagabaldo, he says, “The designs become clear, depending on what we encounter as we search.” Inspiration is usually sourced from nature. He explains, “A civet cat makes a rather good attention-grabber, as does a monitor lizard, a kalaw bird or a huge butterfl y in the area.”
Worldwide Wonder
In the last two decades, people of Bacolod have shared the Masskara festival with the world. Increasingly, they are invaded by camera clubs competing for their own awards; beer and mobile phone companies happily sponsoring street-dancing competitions; TV crews fi lming documentaries; campaigning politicians; fashion models posing for pictorials.
“Our papier mache masks now wear uniforms of a company that serves fast food hamburgers,” notes Enrique Roxas, head of a former sugar planters association.
Major sponsoring agencies, companies and banks come with their own fl oats and shower the crowds with samples of their products as they pass. Unfortunately, the sponsoring banks don’t tend to follow this trend!
Despite the strong arm of commercialism, the heart of the festival remains its people. The streets are fi lled with locals dancing in costumes and wearing smiling masks in celebration of the well-being, initiative and spirit of the Filipino. As people parade their enormous stylized grins, local commerce also fl ourishes with orchids and homemade crafts sold on the street.
Most visitors leave Bacolod with a better sense of propriety. But more importantly, one takes home hope, sparked by a people who know how to emerge from hostile times with a smile – not just for a street festival, but for the entire sunshine-y year!
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