*Note this story is in Tagalog
Walang “on the job training” sa trabaho ko. Kailangan mo lang makisama, at huwag hayaang lamunin ka ng takot.
Nasaan na ba ako?
Oo nga pala, nasa karanasan ko pagtatrabaho sa sementeryo.
Halos 40 taon na ang lumipas ng umalis ako sa Mindanao para sa magandang bukas na ng aking mga anak. Si Carmen at Berto.
Alam mo naming nakapagtapos sila ng kolehiyo di ‘ba? Lagi nila akong pinipilit na umalis na sa aking trabaho, sa iba na lang daw. Basta malayo sa mga nitso’t buto, lalo na noong namatay ang kanilang ama, naku! Pero hindi ko nakikita ang sarili ko na umalis sa lugar na ito.
Doon ako naglagi, doon sa museleo na kulay asul.
Naging hilig ko na ang paliguan ng asul na pintura ang mga libingan. Tignan mo, masarap sa mata tignan ang itsura ng libingan, kalmado.
Ano nga? Ay, pasensya na! Iniiba ko na naman ang usapan, kaming mga matatanda ay ganito na talaga madalas.
Ayon, na naniniwala ba ko sa mga multo?
Hindi mo naman kailangang maging baliw para maniwala!
Noong unang dating naming dito, ginigising kami ng mga tunog mula sa kadena tuwing alas tres, aba’y wala namang mga tao.
Yung asawa kong ‘yon, masayahin at mahilig uminom.
Isang beses sa kaniyang kalasingan, kumuha siya ng bungo at sinama niya sa paglilibot sa buong sementeryo. Nang gabing din iyon, nagpakita sa kaniya ang kaluluwa. Dali-dali akong pumunta sa kinaroroonan niya, pero wala namang ibang tao doon. Pagkatapos noon, nagkasakit siya. Syempre isa lang ang magpapagaling sa kaniya, ang paghingi ng tawad. Kaya ako’y nag-alay sa multo para sa paghingi ng tawad.
Mabisa iyon, ng araw din iyon ay gumaling ang aking asawa!
Natatawa na lang ako kapag naalala iyon.
Nawala na naman ba ‘ko sa usapan natin?
Sige na nga, sasabihin ko na sa iyo.
Hindi ko talaga, plinano na magtagal dito. Ang asawa ko talaga ang nangangalaga sa mga libingan bago pa ako dumating galing probinsya.
May mga naririnig na akong kuwento galing sa mga lolo at lola ko. Na may mga nilalang na naniniwalang hindi dapat nirerespeto ang mga yumao.
Lalo na kung hindi sila gutom.
Sa matagal na pagtatrabaho ko rito, may iilan din naman akong nakita.
Mayroon d’yan na kayang pasabugin ang tyan ng patay sa pamamagitan lang ng paghawak sa kabaong.
Kaya lagi kong pinapaalalahanan yung mga pamilya na mag-iwan ng bukas na ilaw. Nakatutulong yan laban sa mga ganung nilalang.
Yung mga nakalibing dito, iba-iba iyan ng karanasan. Mayroon diyan katulad sa sitwasyon ko, umalis sa sariling bayan. Kaya lagi kong nirerespeto kung ano man ang mga tradisyon nila.
Katulad ng libingan doon.
Ay, doon sa bandang kaliwa.
Tama, ayun nga.
Napansin mo ba yung malaking piraso ng metal sa libingan? Pinakiusap ‘yan ng pamilya niyan na dapat lagi iyan nandyan.
Hindi nila sinabi kung bakit, hindi rin naman ako nagtanong kung bakit. Siguro kailangan talaga iyon. Bilang proteksyon sa mga mahal mo sa buhay kahit na sila ay patay na.
Kaya ngayon, magsisimula na ako.
Ang pinakanakakainis sa mga mga multong ito, iyon yung mga hindi marunong mag-isip nang mabuti. Sa ibang lugar, ang tawag sa kanila ay wirwir. Ako ang tawag ko sa kanila ay mga buwisit.
Binabantayan ko lagi yung mga bagong libing tuwing gabi. Para lang masigurado na hindi nila, oo nila dahil grupo-grupo sila kung pumunta, hukuyin ang libingan at kainin ang patay.
Noon e, kayang-kaya ko pa. Pero ngayong tumatanda na ako ay pinapahirapan na ako ng mga buto ko.
Dumating na nga sa puntong, gusto ko ng sumuko.
Pero may tumulong sa akin.
Pinapalibutan na ng mga wirwir yung bagong libingan.
Nang marinig ko ang tunog ng isang saksopon.
At parang kidlat, itong sementeryo ay napuno ng iba’t ibang instrumento. Hawak-hawak ito ng mga kahindik-hindik na mga nilalang.
Pero ng binuka nila ang kanilang mga bibig upang tumugtog, aba! Napapasayaw ako.
Hindi ko alam kung sa henereasyon niyo ngayon e alam niyo ang tunay na tunog ng Jazz. Pero sa mga panahong ‘yon, narinig ko.
Namangha ako. Tahimik akong nakatayo ng biglang may tumapik sa akin. Matangkad na Amerikano. Pumalakpak siya at malakas na sinabing “Let’s make more lovely music for our audience!”
Doon ko lang napansin na tumigil na pala sa paghuhukay ng libangan yung mga wirwir. Sumasayaw na ito sa saliw ng banda. May nakita akong trumpeta, trombonyo, tambol, mayroon pa nga atang piyano na gawa sa buto.
Hindi ko na maalala ang mga sumunod na nangyari. Parang sinabi pa nga ng Amerikano na kailangan pa niya ng miyembro para makompleto ang tunog na nais nito. Ano ibig niyang sabihin? Ay, hindi ko alam!
Siguro, yung Amerikano at kaniyang banda ay nandyan lang. Napapasayaw sa mga wirwir.
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English Version
There’s no “on the job training” for what I do. You just have to adapt and not take let the fear overtake you.
Now where was I?
Oh yes, my experiences in the Cemetery.
Nearly 40 years ago I left Mindanao to search for a better life, it was for my children, you see.
Carmen and Berto. You know they both finished college? They kept (and keep) trying to get me to move somewhere else, away from the bones and coffins, especially after their father died. But I can’t imagine leaving this place.
I stay in a small mausoleum over there by the blue one.
My favorite thing to do is giving the tombs a fresh coat of paint, and well, I think blue is really calming.
Yes? Oh I’m sorry! I keep changing the topic, I get that way sometimes. Most people do when they’re my age.
Do I believe in ghosts?
Well you would have to be crazy not to!
The first time I arrived from the province my husband and I would wake up at 3 in the morning to the sound of chains. No one was there of course. No person, at least.
My husband was a happy man that also liked to drink a lot.
One time he played with a skull and carried it around the cemetery.
That night the ghost showed itself to him. I rushed to where he was, of course, but there was nothing there. Then he got really sick. I did the only thing I could think of and asked for forgiveness, and gave an offering to the spirit.
It worked and my husband managed to get better within the day.
Those were good times, me and him and the graves.
I got off topic again, didn’t I?
Alright, let me tell you about it.
I never planned to be here for long. My husband took care of the graves before I came here from the province.
There were stories I knew from my lolos and lolas. Creatures that didn’t think that the dead were something to be respected.
Not if they were hungry.
In my years I’ve come across a few kinds.
There were the ones that would make a corpse’s belly bust just by touching the coffin.
I’d always tell the families at the wake to leave bright lights. That always helped against these creatures.
The dead buried here come from all walks of life. Some of them travelling far from their roots like I did. I always made sure to respect their traditions.
Like the grave over there.
No, the one to the left.
Yes, that one.
If you look closely you can see a big piece of metal on the grave. The family requested that it be on there at all times.
I didn’t ask, and they didn’t tell. It was just something that had to be done. To protect your loved one even after they passed.
And now I get to my story.
The most aggravating of these spirits were the ones that were too stupid to know better. In some places they called them the wirwir. I just called them annoying.
Every night after a new coffin was buried, I would have to keep watch to make sure they (yes they travel in packs) keep from digging through the grave and eating the body.
It was tolerable when I was younger, but these old bones ache.
There was a point where I didn’t think I could handle it anymore.
But on one strange night I had help.
The wirwir were clumped together around the newly set grave
Then I heard the saxophones.
In a flash the cemetery was filled with instruments.
Grotesque creatures of all shapes and sizes opened their mouths.
And it made me want to dance.
I don’t know if you young people know what real jazz sounds like, but it was there.
I stood silent, overwhelmed by what I was seeing, then someone tapped my shoulder.
It was a tall American (I could tell by his accent). He was dressed like he just stepped out of a movie.
He clapped his hands and shouted to the creatures, “Let’s make more lovely music for our audience!”
Then I noticed the wirwir were joining in. They had stopped digging for their next meal and were dancing to the beat of the bone-drums. I saw trumpets, trombones, bass and even a piano made of polished white bone.
I don’t remember much after that. I think the American said he needed more members to make the sound complete. What that meant I didn’t know.
I’d like to think that the American and his band are still out there somewhere.
Giving the ghouls the time of their lives.
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*Tagalog is an Austronesian language spoken as a first language by a quarter of the population of the Philippines and as a second language by the majority. Its standardized form, officially named Filipino, is the national language of the Philippines, and is one of two official languages alongside English.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Kenn Empuesto
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Kenn Empuesto
Inspired by the Wirwir description in Vanoverbergh, Morice. (1938). “The Isneg Life Cycle II: Marriage, Death, and Burial.” PCAC 3 (3)
Wirwir Illustration by Ethan of @Mangkukulang
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