Bikini-clad bodies struggle to stand on the boat as they swarm around a roasted pig. They gaze intently at its golden skin. In comparison, their skins are pale despite the abundance of sun. The girls reveal to me that they have been fasting. One of them snaps a piece of skin, signaling to the rest of the pack that the fasting is over. Pig fat greases their fingers. Each one takes her time at licking it off. The crispy skin is torn into equal pieces like a candy meant to be shared. The juicy and salty meat is wolfed down, leaving the bones for sucking. In this place, fasts are welcomed by feasts.
Today is the Sinulog Festival, which pays homage to when the Spaniards first anchored their ship on the shore of Cebu in 1521. They brought with them a statue of a baby Jesus known as Sto. Niño and the art of pig roasting. To the Spaniards, the meeting was a solid handshake. But to the natives, it was a reason to dance and feast as seen today.
Sunday morning, the locals of Cebu City set up their spit roasts on the streets. There is a laid back atmosphere possibly due to Cebu being known as the “second city” of the Philippines. I suss out that the roasted pig’s local name is lechon, a delicacy Cebuanos boast about. Tarpaulins are plastered at every food stall, each one declaring “Best lechon in town!”
There is a medley of Sto. Niño devotees, party goers, hospitable locals, and tourists, separated only by beads of sweat. Each one has a different motivation. I run across the psychedelic parade. The police attempt to chase me but they are too late. I stand on a platform where I notice people behind a fence cheering “SINULOG!” along with the staccato beats of the drums. The cheers get louder each time the local celebrities wave from the pedestal of their floats. I see a drummer lending his instrument to an enthusiastic tourist. The drumming and dancing are unstoppable. I’ll say it will be a sleepless night for Cebu, where fasts are forgotten and feasts are remembered.
