Black Ribbons for Baclaran

Black Ribbons for Baclaran

A black ribbon denotes death and seeing black ribbons festooned on walls and pillars of the National Shrine of our Mother of Perpetual Help - Baclaran to its multitude of devotees - whispered that the Catholic Church is one priest less. It could not have come at a worse time when the Church is begging parents to offer one son for the priesthood and tugging at charitable hearts to support poor seminarians to boost the dwindling ranks of priests. The tents erected beside the church only heightened one’s anxiety. That was on Tuesday, the 16th.

Wednesday the 17th passed with me again visiting Baclaran, expecting an announcement that a member of the Redemptorist family had rejoined our Creator. The banner by the altar had a fresh slogan, “Linisin ang Baclaran, panatilihin ang kabanalan.” I read it halfheartedly as my mind was with the black ribbons. For the homily, the priest read an open letter, and that solved the mystery of the black ribbons.

The Redemptorist family has not lost one of its own. It is as strong as ever and in a fighting mood, charging into battle behind Article III Section 5 of the 1987 Philippine Constitution and the signatures, mine included, of the hordes that flock to Baclaran on Wednesdays. The contentious issue is Paranaque City’s Ordinance Number 025 series of 2011. On paper, the decree seeks to alleviate the plight of vendors outside the shrine by relocating them to stalls and off the pavement where they lay their wares. The regulation is commendable except for one detail: the local government will apparently erect the stalls right on the streets, worsening an already festering problem.

Anybody who has been to Baclaran would have noticed the vendors who have turned Redemptorist Road, Taft Avenue Extension, and the other adjoining streets into a sprawling flea market. Whether on foot or aboard a vehicle, a devotee would have felt encumbered by those stalls and vendors encroaching on the streets, reducing two-lane roads into alleys where pedestrians have to fight with vehicles for space. A good day of trading for venders means a bad day of travel for devotees, pedestrians and motorists. On those days, traffic nearly halts and the five-minute walk from the LRT Baclaran Station, approximately 200 meters away from the church, turns into a 10-minute stroll or a 20-minute procession.

There is also the issue of crime. Packing a multitude immersed in deep prayer into a small space will give the Artful Dodger and Fagin a field day. Lady devotees are favorite targets, according to reports, but the fiends do not exclusively prey on women. The reminders over the PA system only reinforce the notion that nobody is safe even in the house of God.

Violence is another issue, having witnessed a Waray and a Maranao arguing heatedly near the statue of St. Therese no less. I hastily said my prayers when the Maranao started boasting that his cavalry is coming, but the Waray and his buddy, another Waray, calmly took the threat. Two Warays bloodying each other is bad enough. Warays and Maranaos brawling is Ultimate Fight Club meets World Wrestling Entertainment Raw.

Do not get me wrong. The vendors are as needy as most Baclaran devotees, and if I were them, I would be in the shrine begging for the Blessed Virgin’s intercession. I would rather have them force me to buy their bootleg DVDs and other goods than have them force my cell phone and money out of my pockets at knifepoint. When I can, I buy from them, but Baclaran devotees have their rights, too, as what the priest emphasized, and the vendors’ right to earn has long stepped on our right to worship at the National Shrine of our Mother of Perpetual Help without having to go through a gauntlet of venders and fiends.

Prospero Pulma Jr. -