Anyone there professing not having heard or sang Auld Lang Syne better be prepared to be haled to court because “Ignorance of the Law,” este, ignorance about the song excuses no one.
Yaiks! How about that, my handsome hombre prens, Mayor Mauricio Domogan, Attys. Joe Molintas, Erik Donn Ignacio, city councilors Faustino Olowan and Peter Fianza? Did I get that right this time? No? Now, c’mon guys don’t give Ah Kong a failing mark on Article 3 of the Philippines Civil Code.
Truth is, this wretched Ah Kong is the most ignorant about Auld Lang Syne.
So last week, Ah Kong shuffled to parts in Cordillera to find out for himself what makes AudLang Syne, a song historians say “a song that nobody knows,” loved by Cordillerans who sang it, or tried to, since it ticks in their hearts like a fine Swiss watch.
For whatever the hell Auld Lang Syne is all about, it makes people singing and hearing it well up with emotion and evokes memories of sadness or laughter, tender or otherwise that tugs at their bosoms, even making those who forgot to laugh in their lifetime soften up.
Many of us may or may not recall who taught us the song, and can’t imagine what they thought they were up to, but we do remember that we used to sing it often, standing in a circle holding hands with our arms crossed, trying our best to make sense of its lyrics.
Or we sang it during campfires, after meetings or other gatherings.
Musically speaking, during those formative years, we either sang or mumbled its lyrics, asking ourselves, “What on earth do I understand the lyrics,” but having a jangled feeling that in singing it, we are afraid a person whom we hold dear may disappear.
Many, like Ah Kong, don’t understand all its words, but that’s done nothing to diminish the song’s appeal. Its nostalgic sentimentality can affect our moods.
We don’t have to be folklorists to deduce that the song possesses a haunting, nostalgic yet beautiful character that slings the passing of time and goodwill. If it’s sung during times of merriment, so it is during wakes or funerals. It lends itself to many different occasions.
In Japan, the recorded song is played in stores and malls during end of the day to signal customers it’s time to close shop.
Aud Lang Syne has traveled and embedded itself in the Cordilleran culture. In very Cordilleran family, almost all household members know the song and croon it easily, in like manner that they adapt natural to country music.
Here’s a bet that Hilda Tadaoan, Fr. Menzi Bacduyan, Manong Mauricio Domogan and others out there whom Ah Kong respects as his elder-teachers will agree that the song is malleable and quite specific about friendship.
Its title means “Old Long Ago, old long since, or for old time’s sake,” and on friendship and times past. One of its lyric, “We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,” symbolizes bond among pals, strengthened by shared drink.
Ah mushed through the muddy vegetable gardens of Atok Trail, Loo, Buguias, Kibungan and other places, sat for a chat “ti biag ti gardinero” (life of a vegetable farmer) and asked if they knew the song. The gardineros gave me a quizzical look, which meant, “We ain’t ignoramus like you.”
Then one among them would hum it, and other gardineros chimed in – never mind if they interchange or alter the lyrics to suit their fancy.
One of the gardinors says that “even if we don’t have a clue to what the lyrics mean, Auld Lang Syne evokes sentimentality, a nostalgia and affection for the people around us, loved ones and strangers alike.”
There I discovered true-to-life stories of how the song changed lives and saved relations t that would have otherwise been shattered.
Gardinero Agapito Gudaen’s, story encapsulates the tales of many marriages that nearly broke. Agapito thought before that nothing he and his wife can do can to save their marriage.
One lonely night, he sat at their porch, got hold of his broken guitar, twiddled with it, lightly strumming the strings. Everything was quiet. Somehow, he hadn’t the spirit to sing.
Out of nowhere, he started humming Auld Lang Syne, putting all his dreams and emotion into it.
Inside their house, his wife and children felt the loneliness and beseeching in Agapito’s voice, as his voice faltered and swung with his sadness.
Their children looked at their silent ma. Their mother was moved and she cried.
She went over to their porch and tightly hugged her husband, who was broken in spirit. Her gesture was enough messages: Let bygones be bygones. We will start anew and mend our broken marriage.
Why it remains ceaselessly relevant today, we may as well look at thousands of Cordillerans who believe in the song, to stay close to the people who matter.
If Manong Mauricio Domogan gives us meaningful portrayals in his Uggayam, indeed, why not Auld Lang Syne, too.