Text and photos by ELIZABETH LOLARGA
WITH the air chilly and the fog constant, Baguio City is the perfect setting for a night that raises goose bumps. “Tales of the Al-alya (Ghost Stories)” was staged on Halloween by the Baguio Writers Group (BWG) at the Hill Station bar in the reportedly haunted, century-old Casa Vallejo. BWG members led by its president, Luchie Maranan, culled from their experiences with the beyond and those that have become part of local lore.
Mitos Benitez, Hill Station owner, continues to hear stories of showers in the hotel bathrooms being turned on with no one around so when she has to work late, she doesn’t take any chances. Like a frightened girl, she takes the hand of a security guard to keep watch as she used the toilet.
Journalist Nonnette Bennett read her short story about a girl stalked by the ghost of a Japanese soldier who climbed through her window nightly and made love to her. She wakened in all sorts of position and felt the “nocturnal lover” tailing her everywhere. She followed her elder’s advice to keep water by the bedside “to calm a nightmare.” These measures didn’t have an effect so a mambunong (shaman), a local ghost buster, was called to appease the spirit with animal sacrifices, the blood being buried six inches deep so the ghost didn’t enter the house anymore.
Poet Merci Javier Dulawan held a make-believe skull of a beheaded Ifugao warrior to tell the tale that originated from Sadanga, Mountain Province. The skull of a dead warrior spat at people and said it wouldn’t rest until it was returned to its home in Belwang, Sadanga. This tale came from the time of tribal wars when beheading the enemy was still practiced.
Baguio columnist Baboo Mondoñedo explained how the story of the white lady of Balete Drive in Quezon City began and the upland city’s version of her. Balete Drive used to have huge balete trees along the road that were home to mythical creatures invisible to the human eye, e.g., the dwende (elves), kapre (smoking giant) and diwata (fairies). The street is also lined with empty mansions whose owners, now dead, didn’t leave their property to any heir to ensure they didn’t fall in poor people’s hands.
Mondoñedo said the white lady of Loakan Drive, Baguio, manifested herself to the bakery staff of Café by the Ruins when it was still located near that road. The bakery manager named Gerry began attacking, kicking and biting workers and customers. A mambunong was summoned. She said the spirit of raped and murdered woman from the Japanese time lodged in Gerry’s body. The remains of the body couldn’t be dug up after 50 years. The mambunong recommended an atang (offering) be made in the woman’s memory every time bread was baked.
Mondoñedo shared her own encounters with the unknown–how a brown owl perched on her bookcase in her forest house. The local belief said when strange birds and other creatures entered one’s house, it foretold something or meant someone from the spirit world was visiting. She realized that it was her first boyfriend’s death anniversary.
She shared how her stillborn daughter could not rest peacefully. A séance was called where she spoke through one of those present and requested to be dug up; she felt cold and wet. Her marble box was excavated, her bones washed and dried. She was given new clothes before being reburied in a dry spot in Mondoñedo’s backyard. After that the child did not bother her anymore.
Journalist Desiree Caluza read her composition “Dinuguan ang Ulam Mamayang Gabi (Blood Stew is Tonight’s Dinner).” It began as a harmless list of the ingredients of this dish, building up to wail about the salvagings (summary executions) and murders of the innocent going on in the country and the unspeakable grief of families left behind.
Caluza ended with irony: “Kung di pa nabigyan ng hustisya and pagkamatay, mas mainam, mas lilinamnam at mas lalapot ang dinuguan…At kapag naluto na ang dugo—ihain ng may kasamang puto. (If the aggrieved is not given justice, the better, the tastier and the thicker becomes the dinuguan…When it is cooked, serve with rice cake).”
Maranan assumed the persona of Alyce Omengan Claver in her monologue about a real activist mother assassinated by suspected state agents six years ago. Fearing for their lives, her bereft family fled to Canada to seek political asylum.
Journalist Frank Cimatu said he once slept at Villa Angela in Vigan, Ilocos Sur. He thought the air-conditioner was in full blast and a party was noisily going on outside his room. In the morning he learned that the room had no air-conditioner and the staff had left earlier so there was no party at all.