The Laughter Comes Like a Flood

“Is Masskara worth celebrating despite everything that is happening around us?”

Quakes. Flooded streets. NDRRMC alerts almost every other day of a volcano threatening to erupt. Amid all the natural calamities plaguing the people of Bacolod in the first two weeks of October alone, would Masskara festivities really be an appropriate way to focus the public’s time, resources and attention?

I know that the prevailing sentiment is easy to make: “of course not.” Merriment at a time where homes and livelihoods have been flooded could be construed as tone-deaf. Now is an especially bad time when recent Social Weather Stations polls show the public’s flagging faith in government leaders, exacerbated by anomalies in spending.

This sentiment is valid, and undeniably so. Solidarity ought to be shown through restraint, not loud, day-long celebrations.

But please, allow me a moment to note: when Bacolod trudged through the ashes of the Negrense famine two score years ago, when its people limped home empty-handed from the markets during the height of the economic slump, was it tone-deaf for Bacolodnons to create a festival that focused so wholly on smiles? Joy? Hope? To wear such wide-grinning masks even when they hid the grime of a difficult era?

Apparently, in the winter of the city’s discontent, the people had, at least for a little while, recaptured the sun.

Thus, ever since the very inception of Masskara, it seemed Bacolod found another route to solidarity: through shared struggle and a united effort to reclaim each other’s ability to find delight.

We can draw a parallel with our close kin in the Pacific Ring of Fire: Japan. After the 2011 earthquake and ensuing massive tsunami, many prefectures still chose to hold their yearly festivals. Even Fukushima—at the heart of the nuclear crisis—held its event, its people lionizing it as their triumph over adversity.

The indubitable fact is that the Masskara festival serves a purpose: as a common beacon for communal spirit and rejuvenation—a moment where there can be fire, laughter, and music again. And it seems fair to say that the mark of the people’s strength does not lie in how they celebrate when times are good, but how brightly they stay smiling and laughing during the bad.

LCM || Wynzel Desuyo