The usual scenario of our barrio fiesta is always refreshing to talk about and bayle was always the most attended part of the festivity. Young men and bachelors from the neighboring barrios trooped inside the makeshift dance hall fenced with coconut leaves and bamboo poles just to see the daughters of Manangs and Manongs.
One quick boy elbows his way through the crowd of onlookers, itching to have his first dance, and chose a girl from among the sitting debutantes of the barrio. The boy made it to the dance hall with the belle he had chosen. As the slow music played, the boy awkwardly placed his hands on the girl’s waist while the latter had rested her hands on the boy’s shoulders.
The boy started his conversation: “Neng, dis a gali inyuha balay?” (Neng, where is your place?). The girl did not reply. And there was long uncomfortable silence that clouded between them.
The boy was very determined and persistent and made a follow up question: “Ano gali pangalan mo haw?”(What is your name?).
“Ako si Laura, ikaw? Ano man gid ang pangalan mo?” (I’m Laura, what about you?) . Finally the girl mouthed an answer.
“Ako si Placido, taga piak na barrio.” (I'm Placido from the neighboring barrio) The boy answered while they keep their unsynchronized waltz.
The somber music still being played, they were closed to each other, a span away. The boy was chewing a gum. Their shyness to each other seems insoluble.
“Ano gali ang obra sang Tatay mo haw? (What is your father’s work?) the boy keep the conversation going to ease the tension.
“Sundalo man gid ang tatay ko.” (My father is a soldier.) the girl’s quick reply.
Strangely the boy moved backward and removed his hands from the girl’s waist. The girl was amused to see such frantic action.
“Pero patay na siya dugay na.” (He’s dead already.) the girl added. Suddenly the boy felt relieved and stepped forward to regain his nearness to the girl, and placed his hands back on the girl’s waist.
Then the somber music died down and was replaced by the dynamic voice of the emcee (nowadays they are called DJs). He announced that the next music shall be exclusively played for the group of boys; known as “Ilongo Gang”.
The emcee jocosely told the crowd through the boisterous outdoor speaker- mounted and knotted above the coconut tree - that any intruder in the dance hall during the playing of the gang’s music shall bear the full wrath of the Ilongo Gang, the emcee’s stern warning was: “Walay mosagol, ang mosagol mabukol.” (No one should get in the way of the gang, any intrusion will suffer injury.)
The gang had reserved their “sweet music” for a high price they had negotiated with the organizer of the bayle.
The music from the bayle echoes through the dark rice paddies and reached to the distant neighboring barrios-the neighboring farmboys had braved through unlit paths of the rice fields, infested with snakes and other nocturnal wild animals - alluring their boys to attend the bayle.
It’s the only time within the year that the boys could see the Nenengs, the Indays, and all those elusive debutantes of the barrio on their formal dresses because these belles were clothed with farming garbs throughout the year. During planting and harvest seasons, these daughters of the farmers were difficult to recognize. The farmer’s garb consisted of long sleeve shirts, long pants, an extra shirt used to cover the face-the nose, the mouth, and the ears- only the eyes were exposed and a broad brimmed buri hat to protect them from the searing sunlight. This familiar portrait of the legendary Ninja, popularized by TV series in modern days was already around the farm.
Bayle has evolved nowadays. Although many barrio fiesta still organized modern disco, an upgraded genre of our vintage bayle. The disco machine has now invaded the barrio just in time that electricity had arrived and lighted the whole place.
Everything has spuriously changed. The Nenengs, the Indays, the Nenes, the Nonoys, the Dodongs and the Totos of the past generation are now gone. For those who are still around and suffering from dim sights and weak hearings, they are just contented to stay in the barrio, only to be visited by their children and grandchildren during weekends and holidays.