Revisiting My Father's Home Town on All Soul's Day

I love traveling. That is something that is certain. But with the rest you must guess if I am being very impulsive, indecisive at times, weird, sometimes smart, gullible, very unpredictable, naive, manipulative but subtle, prayerful though, not very religious, a risk taker/gambler, a serial monogamist, deviant but amiable. I am a firecracker in human being's body. I can bring joy, delight but if not handled properly, no matter how small I am, or trivial the words that I may say, I can be destructive.

Ooops, I am not threatening anyone here. I'm just trying to describe myself. However, I don't think that I can be boxed. I never want to entertain the thought that I can be. Never. So I ended up, letting you peep through the holes of my bright and dark rooms inside this pumping chest.

Now, relax. I was just trying to tell you that I love traveling. And I did that today, with no less than my alter-ego, the one who have always believed in me, yet challenges my decisions and my judgement all the time,. (drum rolling).. my dad!! 

November 1 and 2 of each year are marked as holidays in Philippines. The former is the All Saints' Day while the latter is the All Soul's Day. Though, it's clear what are the holidays meant for separately, there seems to be a confusion among Filipinos what is really being celebrated. Most of us have forgotten that we have to celebrate the lives of the saints who were responsible for the propagation of Catholic faith, evangelization of early settlers and their undying faith.

Unlike Western countries, we do not observe Halloween celebrations such as Trick Or Treat. Some schools in the urban and business establishments hold this kind of program either to educate children with this Western concept or of course gain from these hullabaloos. I can say though that majority of the country's population is still not acquainted with it. What is more usual during this time of the year are ghost stories. Going back to precolonial times, as a race we already had existing beliefs of spirits, unseen elements, and others such as "tiyanak" an unborn child who is looking for a mother. They are usually put on baskets somewhere near a residential area. This baby usually turns into a monster at  night time and kills people. Another element is the "kapre" which is a giant half-man half horse that smokes on trees. According to some people, you know if there is a kapre if there is smoke coming from a tree. Mananaggal is also a part of the list. At night, especially on full moons, the human body of the manananggal will divide and leave the lower part on earth while the upper part flies and look for a victim. This is somehow similar to vampires of the west. Old people would say that if ever we pass by the lower half- body of a manananggal, we must put salt so they won't be able to come back as one piece.

All these stories and more are very common during these holidays. As a good story-teller you will be listened to by younger cousins and other relatives. During November 1st and 2nd, families try to visit their hometowns. Cleaning and repainting graves, bringing flowers, lighting some candles, and reciting prayers for the souls for the departed relatives are just common. In some places, specifically private cemeteries they even have concerts or film showing so that relatives who chose to stay with their demised loved ones will not be bored the whole night and would stay awake. Fast food chains  are also visible such as Pizza Hut, Jollibee, McDonalds, etc.

Yesterday, my mum and I, went to Barangay Pacol, the Dangwa of NagaCity, where you can buy inexpensive flowers. Needless to say we bought a huge pail of assorted flowers to be offered to our dead relatives. Every year, with or without other family members, it is my father's task to bring flowers and candles to our grandfathers and grandmothers who have flown to a much, much better place called Heaven. Today, I chose to go with my dad to do this noble task. Just as I suspect, I got bitten by a travel bug, that is why my feet are restless. On the other hand, I blame my dad for the genes. My love for history, interest in politics, my spontaneity in storytelling and my happy feet were all from him.

As we left our house early in the morning, our hands were preoccupied with the bouquet of flowers entrusted to us by mama. I brought my headset. I thought I should be listening to music on our way to Tinambac. From  Bagumbayan Jeppney Terminal, it used to be a two hour travel to our hometown. So I have prepared myself for the worst. Suprisingly, I didn't use my headset  on either trip. My father had brought with him lots of stories about the places we have passed by. He knows people along the road and he reminds me of how much we are alike in so many ways.

Demesa-Cobar Ancestral House in La Purisima St. Barangay La Purisima, Tinambac Camarines Sur.

This is where my father and his siblings grew up under the care of their grandparents from maternal side. When, they, too, had their kids they brought us there to be acquainted not only with our roots but with the growing number of members of our family. This house was erected after World War II. As a kid I remember the old materials that made up this house, like the capiz on the windows that are no longer  visible due to the deterioration  in terms of quality. This is where we used to sleep over night during fiestas and sometimes Christmas or New Year. A part of my childhood will always be attached to this structure that has cradled several generations of our family.

The "apartment" where our ancestors peacefully reside, physically.

And before we forget, Papa, the one on  the right side of the picture with his classic, natural pose and I decided to go to the cemetery for we are afraid that the whole place, which is uphill, will be soon flooded with people to pay their yearly visits. Papa bought thin and short  candles instead of the fat and long ones. His purpose? I only knew it when our neighboring families were already complaining that their candles were not being consumed fast. Papa, has developed his own strategy of what type of candles and how thin and short to bring and how to arrange them together so that we can leave early. As I've mentioned above, this has been his task for several years. No doubt he has carefully thought about this.

The original central school where my great grandmother, my grandmother and her sister taught.

From the cemetery, my father showed me that the central school is  just below the hill. I attempted to take a photo from where I was standing. Seeing how difficult it was for me, he promised to take me there and to other places in the town that is so dear to him. Me and my restless feet were itching to walk, sprint, run and all the verbs I can think of. Nobody has offered me, ever, to tour the place, except for my father.

The old Municipal Hall

From the school we went to the Old Municipal hall where they still hold some public office. It is undeniable though that the building needs some restoration. Not far from here is the police station and some other offices. Next stop is a place that I am very much excited to see. I remember I've been here but I couldn't create a picture in my mind how does it look like.

Tinambac Church,(San Pascual Baylon, patron saint)

The earliest memory of this place goes back when my grandfather left the whole family grieving. I was just six years old, then. He was a soldier. I've witnessed at a young age, how they are honored in death with our flag and gun salute. I've also realized that he was a heart breaker. Several pretty women were crying in different corners, and none of them,  were our relatives. I can play my other memory of this place very clearly each time I would want to. It when our great grandfather died. We were walking to the church when a pop song was played during the procession by mistake. Having witnessed almost a full century ain't that bad, at all. We said goodbye to Papa Agoy without a heavy heart. 

We locally call it Baybay, which means sand or shore.

When I posted this photo in Facebook, my cousins who grew up in this place couldn't believe it. They thought it is something like Boracay. But it's not, it's the same old Baybay we know. With the same smell, the same crowd and fishermen. Even as I grow old, I will not forget this place and this will not fail to make me smile. Why? Because of a carnival temporarily erected in this place for that year's town fiesta, I was made to believe that they captured a real mermaid. Only to find out the next morning, that the mermaid I've seen the other night is the woman next to us buying 1 kilo of fish. Crap! That was embarrassing.

Tinambac smells copra. No kidding.

As my patient tour guide, Cho Ron, and I bid goodbye to his hometown. We bring home the memories, the photos and lastly, the smell of copra on our clothes and skin. Before the jeepney finally head  towards Naga, it makes another round within town proper to pick up passengers. Another chance to pick up pieces of our family's history, one more chance to glance at these places that might or might not change the next time we come back, one last chance to keep ourselves composed as we go back home in the city. My headset was left untouched. There were still some stories. Chattering. But gone is the enthusiasm we had earlier. Our souls were filled with gladness. Our feet need to rest. For a while:)