Pamanhikan
“In the old days the bride’s parents used to make the groom perform 7 years of hard labor,” I explained to my sister’s German houseguest who walked in right in the middle of Joseph’s father’s speech. “Nowadays it’s just a symbolic meeting where the groom and his parents meet the bride and her family and formally ask for her hand in marriage. Oh, and agree on some sort of bride price. Cows or gold or something”
“Oh, ok,” Carola nodded, smiling.
“Joseph’s dad is just about to offer a herd of carabaos for Mona. And we sure could use them carabaos.”
My father used to tell us that in cultures, like ours, where the bride is considered a prize or an object of value, the groom’s family traditionally offers money or land or labor in exchange for the bride. This is the opposite of a dowry, which is money a bride and her family pay for a groom, he’d say. In modern societies with a tradition of the bride price, the groom’s family pays for the wedding. Societies with dowries have the bride’s family pay. This explanation sounded — and sounds — plausible, but it may have been my father’s way of coping with the fact of having 4 daughters.
In any case, we still practice some sort of pamanhikan to this day. Grumpus and I stood at ceremony 3 years ago, almost to the day. “Don’t sweat it,” I told my sister three days ago. “It’ll be short and sweet. Mickey and his parents came over with something round to represent money — I think it was a cake. Then his dad said something, our dad said something, Mickey said something, then we all went to eat.”
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“Ok,” my dad began, “We all know why we’re here. Joseph, why don’t you start.”
“Well,” said the decidedly un-nervous bridegroom, “my parents and I have come to formally ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage … (something something something) I’m completely in love with your daughter, I think she will make a terrific life partner (something something something)” Mona’s boy sure can talk. “I think she’s an amazing woman (something) and (something else)”.
“I only have three things to say,” my dad said to Mona in response. “First, I hope your wedding is as happy as your sister’s was. Second, I hope you and Joseph are as happy in your married life as your mother and I have been. And third, I hope you are as lucky in your children as we have been in ours.” Short and sweet.
Then Joseph’s parents said something, that of course did not involve carabaos, mom said something, I said something that I can’t remember, then we all went to eat.
In the course of evening, random guests drifted in and out of the house. A poker game was begun, copious amounts of alcohol were consumed, groups of people staked out various parts of the house to catch up on years of goings-on, and I chatted with my mom about dad’s pithy speech. “Your dad was teary-eyed this afternoon when he read me those three statements.”
“Aww, isn’t he just the sweetest thing. He’s really gotten sentimental in his old age.”
Then I went off to look for him to give him a hug. I found him climbing the stairs muttering to himself. I climbed a little faster so I could hear what he was saying. “Heh heh, got rid of another one,” he said.