It's the time of the year when local freight companies are bombarded with the arrival of balikbayan boxes, bringing them brisk business. Some of these Christmas boxes have been sent as early as October to arrive just before the holiday rush in December.
Most likely, at least one or two houses in your block will get a rap on the door from three men as if they were Gaspar, Melchor and Baltazar bearing gifts. After announcing the recipient's name and checking IDs, they'll haul in the ubiquitous carton box encased in duct tape. They'll snap a picture of the recipient (or representative) grinning next to the box as proof that it arrived safely.
The household would later gather in the living room like in some sort of a ritual until the last strip of tape is ripped off and the flaps are opened. Out comes the rubber shoes (made in China); Barbie or whatever toy is popular; bars of Ivory and Irish Spring bath soap (marked "not for retail"); 600ml body lotions; makeup and perfume samples in elegant kits; Spam in packs of six; corned beef with the nifty key on the tin; gigantic canisters of powdered orange juice, coffee, creamer, and Swiss Miss; and other imported stuff that never fails to light up one's eyes. The loot will be covered in a layer or two of thick comforter or bed sheets, maximizing all and every available space in the box.
For many of us with OFWs in the family or relatives who migrated abroad, the arrival of the Christmas box is one of the most awaited pre-Christmas events, if not a tradition. While almost everything may already be available in the mall and specialty shops, nothing really beats the anticipation and the fun of excavating imported goods out of the box. It's as if our family members shipped their blood, sweat, tears and love so that those of us left behind will know that we remain at the center of their universe.
Most of the loot is carefully purchased from seasonal sales and discount stores throughout the year, crammed and accumulated until it's ready to be shipped. Funny thing is, it's the large retail pack of cheap chocolates that gets at my heart (and weight) each time. Not the rare gourmet goody that my grandmother tucks inside. When we were younger and could not yet purchase chocolate bars using our 50-peso-a-week allowance, the sight of a Hershey's or a Cadbury–some in their limited edition holiday wrappers–was the stuff a child's sweet dreams are made of. I guess I carry that wonder (and hunger) with me as an adult, never mind if I could easily buy Snickers at 7-11 and I'd get sick of it after one whole week of gorging.
All the other foods in the box eventually make their way into our daily diet leading up to Christmas. Anybody who has eaten nothing but Spam and corned beef every other day could probably relate. Not that I'm complaining–it's still food after all, and there's just about a thousand and one ways to cook canned meat. Whatever it is inside that Christmas box, it connects us to the loved one who sent it. To a Filipino OFW's family, it's a tradition and a gift worth its weight in gold, frankincense and myrrh.
