Blood soaks through the white jeans of a devotee walking the streets of Pampanga province in the Philippines as he whips his back with bamboo splinters in the heat of the midday sun to atone for sins real or imagined during Holy Week. So it goes.
I’m in Pampanga province in the Philippines, staying with a lovely older woman and a few writers, eating livers, lungs, vinegar-soaked chicken thighs, buckets of halo-halo, and more fried pork skins then I’d care to recall, waiting for tomorrow, April 18th, Good Friday, when the above three men will begin a slow march through the streets of this small town toward a low lying hill in an empty, sun-scorched lot, where there they’ll erect crosses and nail themselves to those crosses and be strung out to hang and endure and know the agonies and sacrifices of their Lord Jesus Christ before the prying and giddy and all-seeing eyes of some tens of thousands of spectators. Should be fun. More later.