Glimpse - Your Stories from Abroad

I arrive early and watch as devotees flock to the streets. They come from the farthest reaches of the country, some walking great distances and standing for many hours on the hot, dirty pavement. Filling the streets and sidewalks as they stream toward the site, they form a virtual parade of believers.

At its peak, the crowd extends more than a quarter mile in both directions and stretches across the entire width of the road. January is one of the hottest months of the year in the Philippines, and the weather for this annual festival is inevitably scorching and humid, making the conditions at street level anything but pleasant.

The streets become so crowded that many people have to escape to respites on the side of the road simply to avoid being trampled. This man and woman try to find a safer place to view the procession, perhaps with a better vantage point. I decide to take a break and join them for a little while.

After waiting for what seems like an eternity, I see the Nazarene making its way through the crowd. It is on a gilded carriage, accompanied by young male devotees in maroon garments. Masses of people attempt to climb up and touch the statue, hoping to have a blessing bestowed upon them. I watch as a woman in a black shirt falls several times before finally, on her fourth attempt, getting to the top of the pile and touching the statue.

I fight my way through the crowd and manage to get a close shot of the statue. It was carved in Mexico and brought to the Philippines by friars in the early 1600s. It rests inside the Quiapo church and is brought into the public just once a year.

Since most people cannot reach the Nazarene themselves, they bring towels and throw them toward the procession. The men accompanying the Nazarene rub the towels on the statue, bestowing miracles upon them, and then throw them back into the crowd. Towels are available for purchase for 10 pesos (25 cents) from hundreds of vendors around the festival. In case you’re wondering, that’s a pre-miracle price.

After the towels are thrown back into the crowd, devotees wave them in the air in celebration. I notice that very few people receive the same towel they threw, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone.

Many people also bring their own Nazarene statues to the event. This woman offers me her miniature replica as I climb up a fence to avoid the oncoming stampede. “It will offer you help and protection today,” she says.

Throughout the procession, large groups of people engage in prayer—Catholicism is by far the most widely practiced religion in the Philippines. While those who fight their way toward the Nazarene tend to be young, people of all ages pray and observe the passing parade.

Two people die and at least 40 are injured in the chaos of this year’s procession—about the usual numbers. This young man finds his way to the outskirts of the crowd for a brief rest, and I find myself wanting to sit down next to him for a breather.

As the procession passes, I work my way back toward the beginning of the parade, where I see a woman collapsed backward with a cold towel on her face. Eventually, the crowd subsides as the statue is returned to its resting place in the church and the prayers are completed. As this woman and I both learn, the entire experience is utterly, incredibly exhausting.

I am not a religious man, and I don't believe in magic. But I must say, that towel has cured something in me. I used to get lower back pains every month or so, and they would render me useless. Then, I rubbed a towel on my back, and I haven't had any lower back pains since.