WHILE FORECASTERS are foretelling a sluggish Christmas shopping season, less acknowledged is the fact that Halloween is already taking a wallop.
It's more obvious to the residents of Ayala Alabang Village (AAV), dubbed the Halloween Capital of the Philippines or the trick-or-treat paradise. Halloween in AAV is what Pahiyas is to Lucban.
For so long, the place has celebrated this foreign tradition with pomp and horror-filled drama. However, households apparently have been cost-cutting on Halloween this year. Decorations are spare; on Oct. 31, there will probably be fewer new costumes, parties and, oh no, sweets?
This is either to sympathize with friends whose homes were ravaged by natural calamities, or to put money in more worthy causes such as helping typhoon victims.
Writer-consultant Elvira "Berry" Marfori finds this year's Halloween celebration unusual. In the past, flying coffins, fantasy tableaux and graveyards were up by the first week of October. This year, it is only a week before Halloween that villagers are putting up tame reminders of that red-letter day.
Journalist-turned-furniture creator Victoria "Avie" Perez affirms that this year's decorations are sparse. Residents have been occupied with social work such as helping the victims of "Ondoy" and "Pepeng." Ladies even cooked at the Country Club and some went to San Pablo, Laguna, to distribute relief goods.
"The general feeling is that Halloween is frivolous at this time. It's an unnecessary expense. Some homes are decked with store-bought masks and pumpkins on their gates. No more grand production along the main road. On Halloween, usually the gates would be open to outsiders. They'd get loads of candies. Now it seems as if giving candies is shallow," says Avie.
Performance artist Jean Marie Syjuco explains, "Halloween is a lot like Ayala Alabang's annual fiesta. It's sad to see it dwindle into the state it's in. First, religious groups campaigned against it as pagan celebration. Then, the village security discouraged outsiders from coming to the village for trick-or-treat. Now, it's "Ondoy" and the residents are concerned about appearing calloused and uncaring. Most of the grand displays are gone, and with them the awe and wonderment of the occasion."
The village has always amused observers with its Halloween spectacle. At least three homes were known for their grand traditions. One house had coffins hanging from the trees with ghouls and tianak popping out.
Another resident built a canopy of capiz lights over the street. The homeowner would be dressed in a ringmaster's costume giving candies to children. He was famous for his fabulous entertaining, but he experienced a change of fortune.
Another house mounted fairy tale tableaux, among them an Aladdin that caused a lot of traffic. People would get off their cars and walk towards the house to gawk at the sight.
When director Carlo Caparas and wife, movie producer Donna Villa, lived in Ayala Alabang, they had monsters peeping from behind their walls during Halloween.
It was common to see fences lined with scarecrows, witches and ghouls. One resident along Madrigal Avenue had a kapre sitting on the wall, which became a tourist attraction. People would have their photographs taken before this curiosity. There was also a tableau of corpses in tombstones chatting with each other. Another resident draped the exteriors with black fabric and installed a manananggal.
For snobbery, it was de rigeuer that costumed kids went door-to-door on golf carts or pick-up trucks with nannies in tow. In Berry's street, mestizo boys dressed up as maids handed out candies to kids. Neighbors were unrecognizable in their ghoulish attire.
The event was an opportunity for merchandising, too. The owner of Go Nuts Do Nuts, naturally, gave donuts, while the home of the owner of Arce Ice Cream became a scooping station. Another home distributed packets of Milo. Talk about making the product accessible to the target market. Ayen Munji Laurel was said to give Barbie dolls to treat-or-trickin' kids.
The influx of outsiders could wreak havoc on the place. Some residents complained about their decorations getting vandalized.
In time the AAV association organized a special event for the children from underprivileged communities in the Alabang Town Center.

Berry adds, "The kids of the owners have grown up. Some owners have moved out. The Halloween festivity mirrors the economy."
Poets and performance artists Cesare and Jean Syjuco have made their home an artistic statement.
"We began using banners with text in 1994, and have been using them ever since. The whole idea was to come up with something relatively inexpensive that would be equally effective as Halloween décor. Also, the messages were deliberately twisted to address grownups, not just children.
Instead of witches and goblins and ghosts, we've addressed a wide range of adult concerns, from the war in Iraq to civil-liberties abuses, and next year's presidential elections. It's become social commentary, yes, but all in the spirit of good fun," says Jean.
In 2000, they printed "The Economy Equals Horror." After 9/11 they bannered "Terrorized!" During the bird flu epidemic, the tarpaulin depicted a cloaked skeleton climbing down the staircase. The text read: "And You Thought It Was the Flu."
On their quirkiest statement, she recalls, "Our streamer read 'We Eat Children.' Church people came to say it was demonic. That was probably the best one yet."
The Syjucos find fulfillment in seeing families being photographed in front of their banners.
"It makes it worth the effort and expense. That's why we'll be doing this forever," declares Jean. She adds that despite the scenario, children still remain optimistic about life and look forward to getting their sugar fix.
"They still come in droves for their candies. That's what counts."