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Mabuhay Pilipino! (Long Life!): Filipino Culture in Southeast Louisiana
By Laura Westbrook
Brief Historical Overview / Filipino Heritage and Language
Social and Benevolent Organizations / Businesses
Religious Observations and Celebrations / Secular Celebrations
Dances from the Philippines
Conclusion
Social and Benevolent Organizations
According to Marina E. Espina, who remembers spending summers in Manila Village as a girl, the fishermen who worked there also had homes in the Faubourg Marigny on the outskirts of the French Quarter, and after Hurricane Betsy this neighborhood was home to the highest concentration of Filipinos. Rather than segregate themselves, the Filipinos-while maintaining close ties and strongly identifying as Filipino-socialized freely with their German, Irish, French, and African-American neighbors. Filipinos in Louisiana, from the earliest arrivals of single fishermen, have a long history of racial tolerance and intermarriage. The majority of Filipinos in Louisiana today cheerfully absorb relatives-by-marriage who come from other cultures, and welcome their children as full members of the Filipino community.
Louisiana Filipinos have organized mutual aid societies since their earliest communities were established, and social clubs offered their members places to gather and strengthen community ties. Working together, cultural organizations served not only to provide community to people missing family and routines from home, but also to advocate for the good of the group. One example is the successful repeal of a prohibition against Asians owning land. Today there are about 21 social, cultural, and professional organizations of Louisiana Filipinos. Almost half are local chapters of national organizations; all are geared toward improving the lives of Filipinos living in Louisiana. A good number of them operate charitable activities that benefit residents regardless of their cultural background. Some people, like Marina Espina, the first female president of the Filipino-American Goodwill Society of America and the founder of the Asian Pacific American Society, wonder whether the multiplicity of organizations has the result that "Filipinos lack a sense of unity" and that perhaps this means that "the Filipino community becomes less visible to New Orleans society." Others contend that there is a strong core of very active community members who maintain memberships in multiple organizations.
Filipino associations also sponsor activities that facilitate assimilation into, and enjoyment of, traditional Louisiana celebrations. For years the local chapter of the social organization Caballeros de Dimas-Alang sponsored a Filipino float in the Elks parade, the procession (parade) that follows Rex along its Uptown route on Mardi Gras morning. The group, first organized by Hermogenes "Slim" Del Prado, built and decorated innovative floats that differed from others in their use of natural materials as decorations and also with the incorporation of a motorized truck rather than the then-customary horse- or mule-drawn float. For its first three years, from 1935 to 1937, and again in 1946, theirs was awarded the first-place prize as the most popular and beautiful float.
Rhonda Richoux, who now lives in St. Bernard Parish, recalls the days when cultural communities attended social clubs right in their own neighborhoods. Her story also brings out the constant interaction Filipinos had (and still have) with other immigrant communities and with visiting sailors from the islands.
Growing up in New Orleans, I didn't feel out of place with my Cajun name, Richoux, and my brown skin, courtesy of my Filipino grandparents. At home, my Cajun and Filipino American relatives exchanged recipes and family stories-for example that my Filipino ancestor Felipe Madriaga worked in the Filipino fishing villages of St. Malo and Manila Village and, with his Irish wife Brigett Nugent, ran a small restaurant at one time. With so many diverse cultures, each neighborhood seemed like the center of the universe to its inhabitants. It was certainly the center of my universe, because just about everybody I knew and loved lived in the Faubourg Marigny, right outside of the French Quarter.
Grandma and Grandpa Burtanog lived next door to us. They always had relatives living with them who had come on hard times. Grandma and Grandpa Richoux lived across the street. My daddy, divorced from my mom, stayed there when he wasn't at sea. My uncle Frank Reyes lived on the corner, in a big house that seemed to hold half the neighborhood. It didn't dawn on me until I was older that some of those Filipino men I saw at the house were not relatives, but seamen who boarded at Uncle Frank's house.
In addition to families and neighborhoods, Filipinos also gather in social, professional, and charitable organizations. Many of these raise funds to assist new arrivals from the Philippines while they settle in Louisiana, to support victims of disasters in the Philippines or in Louisiana, to support favorite charities unrelated to cultural groups, or to support ongoing community activities. One of the earliest important social clubs, with a clubhouse in the Faubourg Marigny area in New Orleans, was the Filipino-American Goodwill Society. According to Rhonda Richoux, new arrivals from the Philippines were quickly welcomed into the local Filipino clubs. The clubs celebrated holidays and maintained customs from the home country, and also embraced local customs. This helped immigrants to learn about new customs by participating in them with fellow Filipinos. One example is Mardi Gras; individual Filipino clubs held their own Mardi Gras balls and elected their own carnival courts. Rhonda Richoux describes the activities of the Filipino-American Goodwill Society, nicknamed "The Flip Club" by its teenaged members, to which her family belonged:
[The Filipino-American Goodwill Society] had Easter parties, Santa Claus at our Christmas party, and picnics for small children and the whole family. We also had a band, usually a local jam band, on Friday or Saturday nights. Our club was family-centered, and so there was always a mixture of generations at any given moment there, but dance night was mostly teens and adults. During the week, though, when most people were at work and children were in school, it was usually the old men and housewives enjoying a friendly card game or a meal together.
I have many good memories of the club: the old men cooking pansit [Filipino stir-fry], dinuguan [a pork stew], and sinigang [meat or seafood stew with a "sour" broth], speaking their native language, switching to Spanish or English when the dialects clashed; and the blue-eyed grandchildren feeling safe within the embrace of our tight-knit Filipino community. . . . The Flip Club taught me so much. It kept me in touch with my ancestral roots, kept me in tune with what it means to be Filipino in America, taught me about family, politics, and history. Families met there, politicians spoke there, and our history was part of the daily conversation there.
To my sorrow, our beloved Flip Club is no more. As the older members began to pass and the new generation had more pressing things to attend to, the membership dwindled and the club was closed. There are, of course, other Filipino and Asian clubs around town that still thrive, but there will never be another with the neighborhood feel of The Flip Club. I miss the community, the friendly people, the conversation. But, there is one thing that still feels like home to me. No matter where in the country I may be, if I meet a Filipino and tell him of my heritage, I'm guaranteed a smile and a good conversation.
For a time, Francisco and Maria Garcia and their four children lived in an apartment on the second floor of the two-story building that housed the Filipino-American Goodwill Society. Mr. Garcia, one of the first Filipino merchant marines in the United States describes the neighborhood and activities:
The Filipino community was at that time centered on the Touro Street-Kerlerec Street area [just across Esplanade Avenue from the Tremé neighborhood]. After a while we needed more room for the kids, so we moved to Almonaster Street in the Ninth Ward, where a number of other Filipino families lived. We didn't have any social clubs in that neighborhood, but we had get-togethers and picnics. We could go to the Union Hall. Filipinos love sports; we men used to go in groups to watch the boxing at the Municipal Auditorium or the Coliseum, and some of the boxers in the flyweight division were Filipino also. For club activities, we still drove in to the Marigny to the [Goodwill Society] clubhouse run by Mr. Gino Batista.
Mr. Garcia explains that, though people no longer have the same spare time they once did, and there are not as many activities of special interest to Filipinos, community members still honor their culture. Traditional ideals, he notes, such as honoring elders, are maintained even though formal ways of showing respect have been largely discarded as old-fashioned. He points out that the Filipino community is very close, but its members are also very open to friendships with non-Filipinos. He offers his assessment of the Filipino community in Louisiana:
We're a happy bunch. You never hear about crime among the Filipinos here. We keep our community together. The people are independent. They may work on ships, but they own their own houses. Also, we are not clannish; we mix with local people. . . . When I grew up [in Manila], it was the custom to express respect for elders by kissing their hand or touching the back of their hand to the forehead. Not many young people still do it today, but every once in a while you meet someone who still does that.
Businesses
A few Filipino-run businesses in New Orleans serve important functions in the community. Business owners, like Gerardo (Gerry) and Thelma Yumul, maintain connections to larger business organizations for American Filipinos and also serve as mainstays within their local communities. The Yumuls, who operate Yumul International Enterprises and Yumul Travel International, also are prominent members of state and local groups such as the Philippine American United Council of Louisiana and the New Orleans Filipino American Lions Club. Business owners in the community know that they can rely on people like the Yumuls for advice.
The Streetcar Bistro (at 201 Baronne Street), operated by Crispin and Choleta Pasia, is a place to gather and visit for a Sunday brunch that features Filipino dishes such as adobo (poultry marinated in soy sauce and garlic), lumpia (vegetable egg roll), kare-kare (ox-tail stew with peanuts), and menudo (a pork and vegetable dish entirely different from the Mexican food of the same name). Chef Paul Prudhomme met Cris, who was already a successful chef, while on an Asian tour, and sponsored the couple's move to New Orleans, where Cris furthered his culinary studies at K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen before opening his own restaurant featuring dishes from the Philippines. Some are blends of Philippine and Louisiana cuisine, such as his "Dancing Shrimp Manila Bay," the name of which refers to the practice of "dancing the shrimp" at Louisiana fishing communities such as Manila Village. Similar to barbequed shrimp, this recipe incorporates ginger and kalamansi juice (tastes a bit like lime juice) and San Miguel beer, which is brewed in the Philippines. Cris describes his clientele at the restaurant:
During the week, a lot of people come here regularly; they work at Tulane hospital, lots of lawyers, and other people who work downtown. On the weekends, we have a lot of people here from the Philippines. These days, there is a little more of a mix of everybody. Some Filipinos bring friends-Americans, Indonesians, Indian, so now many different people come here. This place is important to Filipinos because they see their friends here and have food they cannot find in other restaurants. It's not a huge menu, but I always have at least 12 to 15 items.
People have special occasions at the bistro, too-parties to celebrate birthdays and graduations, and wedding receptions. Most of these are Filipino people. One of the most challenging requests for a special event was a dish called litsong baboy [roast suckling pig]. It is sort of like cochon de lait; 35-45 pounds takes a long time to cook-six to seven hours over an open-flame rotisserie. One of my favorite special things to do, though, is to demonstrate cooking techniques; sometimes people ask for that, and I enjoy sharing the traditional recipes and preparations.
Another mainstay business is Ely's Philippine Imports (339 Howard Ave in New Orleans), a store operated by Ely Catolos and known in the community as Tita Ely's. Lance Harwell, who is active with the New Orleans Filipino-American Lions' Club, describes the storefront: "Don't look for a big sign or any sort of display. It is as nondescript a location as ever there was. In fact, at first I thought I might be going into someone's house. Family seems to always be there, and there seems to always be something on the stove. It is a very friendly place." Sister Helen Ojario, a Carmelite nun, came to Louisiana from the province of Iloilo to serve as Coordinator for the Global Network for Justice with Loyola University. She is active in some of the Filipino organizations and, in her precious spare time, helps out at Streetcar Bistro and visits when she can with Tita Ely. Sister Helen explains that Tita Ely's business is a hub for Filipino activities:
The interesting part of what is going on now is [that] her place is where Filipinos working aboard the cruise boats visit when they are docked in New Orleans. They get their food and phone cards, and send boxes to the Philippines for their families. This is really a typical Filipino trait: work so hard, send money to their families back in the Philippines, send also boxes loaded with things from USA, and call their families by using phone cards. Ely's store is a place where they get things and also send these boxes to the Philippines through Ely. I love going to Streetcar Bistro and Ely's Store because I continually learn about our culture, values, and religiosity by listening and observing these dynamics.
Tita Ely's is important to the Filipino community as a place where people can go at any time to visit with others with whom they can speak Tagalog or watch television from the Philippines. The store is small and brightly-lit, and seems to always be either empty or full. Alongside the "all Philippines all the time" wall-mounted television are posters of scenic mountainous and beachy vistas from the home country. Shell necklaces, small wood carvings, and ceramic items are displayed in a glass case beneath the register. The shelves, which need re-stocking every two weeks, display soup stock, canned vegetables not otherwise sold in Louisiana, and favorite Filipino snack foods. In the back of the shop are fish, meats, and frozen foods, some of which were prepared by Mrs. Catolos. If she is not too busy, Tita Ely will cook up some of the dishes she keeps "almost ready" in one of her many refrigerators and freezers. Visitors can sit in the brightly-painted courtyard and listen to music while they enjoy a meal.
Mrs. Catolos, who was a schoolteacher in the Philippines, came to the United States as the bride of a Filipino American serviceman in 1958. She enrolled at the University of New Orleans while working at D.H. Holmes department store and raising three children in the 1960s during a time when her husband, a merchant marine, was often at sea. She says that her strong accent made it difficult to find challenging, remunerative work, and that she would end up working "the business side" away from customers. She proved her worth to D.H. Holmes, but realized that she could go into business for herself and provide items sorely missed by local Filipinos. In 1971, she began importing Philippine handicrafts such as wood-carvings, items of clothing, and puka-shell art and jewelry. Soon, she had a stall at the French Market in the section known as the flea market. Her present store is her third location (the other two were in the French Quarter), and her son now operates the flea market stall on weekends. Tita Ely describes her business:
This is known as a sari-sari store. We call it "everything is there;" it means "mix-mix"-a little bit of everything. I have food from home we can't get in other stores, but now people who want more produce can go to the big Asian market on the West Bank. I cook for the merchant marines when they come here [to the Port of New Orleans]. Mostly they learn about the store from other sailors; they say, "Everybody knows you!" [Laughs.] I know when to cook because I know their schedules. Now it's not just Filipinos who come here-it's also Thai, Indonesian, Indian, Chinese. . . . Some of their favorites are sinigang [fish soup with a tamarind broth], dinuguan [a piquant pork stew], menudo, chop suey or pinakbet [mixed vegetables]. They like pansit, too [fried noodle dish somewhat similar to Pad Thai].
Mrs. Catolos' comments about helping Filipino seamen who move to New Orleans, or who visit her store while visiting the port, echo the comments made by others, such as Rhonda Richoux who spoke fondly of the seamen who visited her childhood home so frequently she thought of them as "uncles." Mrs. Catalos says that the rules have changed due to new national security measures, so that gatherings of seamen at her store are spread out over a longer period of time, but are smaller than they were before September of 2001:
Before 9/11, the sailors would come into the store twenty at a time. Now not so many are allowed to be off the ship at the same time. But they will all come, so I make four kinds of soup with vegetables, pork cooked with vinegar and soy sauce, and fish.
Among the most important things Mrs. Catolos stocks are telephone calling cards. Local people turn up to buy them, and servicemen use them to call their families at home, often from the phone at Tita Ely's. Sometimes the servicemen show Tita Ely wallet-sized photographs of their families, and she shows them her album of photographs saved from her home when it was swamped after Hurricane Katrina.
Among the images are pictures of a family wedding at which the bride and groom do the "dollar dance" to bring good fortune. During the dancing at the wedding reception, the bride's family pin money to the bride's veil, and the groom's family pin money to his suit, a practice that she says came to Philippine-Louisianans from the Rizal province, and possibly others, in the Philippines. This image is especially interesting because this tradition, also maintained by many Louisiana families, highlight cultural and religious similarities that helped Filipinos assimilate.
NEXT - Religious Observations and Celebrations / Secular Celebrations
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