Magof Tinituhon i Sakkan

New Year in China is observed twice. Jan. 1 of the solar calendar is for merchants as they hawk their wares like they do at Christmas and Thanksgiving. China apes anything that the West dangles before its eyes, and the shopping malls are crowded.

My in-laws have a coffee maker. “Since when did you start drinking coffee,” I asked. The answer: “We don’t, but the machine was on sale!” Jijia, our local department store, has jackets on sale at 50 percent off. It does not indicate the figure from which the 50 percent is taken from. The word “sale” is enough magic.

The population observes the lunar one on Feb. 8. That is when families gather as clan. Many live in the city, unable to bring their family to their ghetto hovel, so they go home for their annual visit new year. Couples who do not have kids yet travel; Saipan is a popular destination in the middle of winter. The cost of plane tickets rose 10 percent to adjust supply on demand.

On solar New Year, Pinas shoot pyrotechnics in the sky before midnight, light bawang (firecrackers with the big boom), or point the gun upwards, with lead raining back down at a faster rate than when they went up as a consequence. In Honolulu where bawang is regulated, it is the Filipino enclaves that smell of rotten eggs, or technically, sulfuric nitrates. Pinas welcomes New Year with a bang.

We spent solar New Year in Shenyang where the neighborhood we live in was relatively quiet. The Chinese tradition of lighting firecrackers accents levity rather than hostility, now formally outlawed, or rather the government would do the lighting up of the skies, thank you, but I suspect the boom-boom lighters are naturally kept cold on solar New Year until the lunar New Year when skies flares up with lights, government regulations favorable or not.

Our neighborhood is a housing development where the units are fully subscribed to but not occupied as China’s hoarded capital earned since 1985 went out to buy units sold on the hope of making it an investment. With only about eight of the 37 buildings occupied, and the other units dark while the neighboring lot awaits a ribbon cutting ceremony, HK Hutchinson’s Huiland Development is a community of young couples with one or two kids, and elderly parents tending the investment of their absentee children.

I left the solar New Year of China to itself but since the lunar one will not be commonly observed on Saipan, except by the diehard members of the Sinosphere community, I did my solar New Year’s turn feasting.

There is the matter of anticipating the next 365 days. Since we have become servants of timeframes, we regulate our lives through calendar days, weeks, months, and the four seasons on the temperate zone, though I’ve seen woolen sweaters, blankets and hoodies on the first sign of cold on Saipan (that’d be across the 70 degree Fahrenheit line), the sweatshirt worn not for the warmth but for the fashion. The plastic fibers are much warmer than the old cotton ones. Since most of the days on Saipan are just either dry or wet, it’s the umbrella that reigns, the cut-off pants and shirts dominate.

Still, by the way DFS markets its wares, the wears of winter are just as prominently displayed as the ones we actually wear on island. Of course, we have tourists from the temperate zones that do their shopping for the cold while on Saipan so there is a market for the cold winter attires and accessories.

It is the bang of our souls that got me a-tweeter (no, I do not tweet on Twitter but my soul hit high frequency) this New Year. Most of the previous year has been a time of transition, dramatically occasioned by the Aug. 2 epiphany of Soudelor that wiped all expectations, employ and income generation, off the board. At 70, it comes as a challenge to recreate one’s survival systems. We are hard work at that.

2016 begins our journey to the last 16-year phase of our existence projected to be on the 15th day of December 2031. My students are often bewildered how I can be so nonchalant about naming the day I shall “die,” which is really an affirmation that my chosen 86-year length of existence is a choice I am holding myself accountable for, and anything beyond that is c’est la vie to the fairies. Of the 86 though, there shall be no excuses. I am 100 percent responsible.

Aye, there’s the rub. Whatever happened to the will of the infinite? To me, it is easy and clear. I was given cosmic permission to decide, and go for it!

That’s what’s 2016 is going to be, an arena where we conserve that which is still useful, create the new when necessary, innovate when an improvement is called for, establish a system or structure when required in place. Bewailing misfortunes, rehearsing bad turns, and wishing what is not there, are waste of energy.

A couple of colleagues inventoried their physical shortcomings that are habitual, and decided that they are not going to be distractions. Ditto. Happy beginning of the year!