A Head's Up
"We may have to pay for a party when we arrive in the Philippines," my wife states bluntly.
"OK," I reply.
"Like 3 pigs..."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Hey, I'm just saying," she retorts as if to fend off any further questions from me. "What we spent the other night eating out in San Francisco could probably cover 200 people in the Philippines."
"Are we paying for 200 people?"
"It's like a homecoming, so..."
*I blink*
"AREN'T YOU EXCITED?!"
The Homecoming
I don't eat pork.
This thought runs through my head as I kneel on the floor watching a Filipino shaman bless an entire roasted pig freshly slaughtered in my honor.
I find myself in Baguio City, Philippines, thousands of miles away from my San Francisco, California, home and surrounded by my wife's family—my family—whom I am meeting for the very first time. I am the guest of honor, and with that respected role, I am asked to take the ceremonial first bite from inside the pig's severed head.
Again, I don't eat pork. But after 20 years of partnership with my wife (10 of which in marriage), I am honored to meet the family I have only interacted with over social media and video calls. Especially Lola, my wife's grandmother, who at 97 years old still tends to her farm's vegetable fields, much to the consternation of her 10 children (two angels in heaven, eight here on Earth). She has traveled four hours south from her native town of Buguias to see me, kneeled now as I am, reaching into the pig's head and taking the first ceremonial bite.
And with that, the celebration begins! A wave of family and friends greet me, introducing themselves, shaking or simply touching my hand. It's overwhelming, but to be here on this incredible journey and formally accepted into the family is heartwarming.
The Journey
One of the younger members of the family, Janssen, my wife's cousin, offers to drive us around Baguio. He is joined by another cousin, Hannah. Combined, we have a proper chaperone tagteam duo as we bop around in the Toyota Land Cruiser in one of the busiest, densest cities I have ever been to.
I felt inspired by everything around me. People queue up in lines for a ride on one of the ubiquitous Jeepneys: extremely colorful and customized buses that are a staple of public transportation. Telecommunications wires collect in hive-like swarms overhead as the streets below ebb and flow with people. Markets display their wares as motorcycles buzz by, effortlessly snaking through traffic. And yet, just a few minutes away from the city's center, sweeping hillsides that charmingly remind me of San Francisco pop up out of the earth, with brightly-colored houses on hills giving way to even more roads, more people, more sounds.
After a few such escapades, Hannah, around 15 years my junior, turns to me and asks if she may refer to me as "kuya."
“What does 'kuya' mean?” I ask.
"It's like 'big brother' in Tagalog," she informs. "It connotes respect, I guess."
I accept the offer with much gratitude. It's a title that resonates with me throughout my two-week trip in the Philippines. A trip that led me from that initial homecoming, surrounded by family in Baguio, to an impromptu day trip north to Lola's house in Buguias. From there, jaunts south to the sandy beaches of Bohol and west to the lagoons of Palawan, and finally heading back north to finish our trip once more among the company of family in the metro of Manila. A family I have known for decades but never met until now. This book of their homeland and our family is my tribute to them.
With love...
— Kuya
Kuya, the photography book, was released on January 10, 2022.