Our preoccupation with death
Death is perhaps the only milestone in one’s life that has the strongest and most serious impact, other than one’s birthday or wedding day.
Just look at our holidays—Good Friday, The Fall of Bataan, Ninoy Aquino Day, Bonifacio Day, and Rizal Day—all these are about the death of distinguished individuals. Only one birthday, Christmas, is largely and collectively observed by Filipinos.
And while birthdays and weddings have their own traditions and practices, the death of a person has an even richer trove of beliefs and norms that vary from one culture to another. These beliefs have spawned horror movie franchises, created opportunities for enterprise in things like flowers, candles, and funeral services, and even spun various urban legends.
Here we look at some Filipino traditions and practices concerning death according to historical and ethnic differences.
Hanging on to afterlife
Even before Christianity arrived in these islands, our preoccupation with death is already prolific, with each ethnic group having its own distinct beliefs and traditions. One factor that plays a significant role in creating this diversity is geography, as the physical characteristics of an ethnic group’s domain shape its funeral and burial practices.
Take the case of the Hanging Coffins of Sagada in the Mountain Province. The mountainous topography of the locale has created among its elderly a fear of being buried on the ground, forcing its inhabitants to bequeath their dead to the afterlife by hanging their coffins on the walls of the Lumiang Cave.
The cave helps in preserving the bodies, acting as some sort of refrigerator with its cold temperature at night. Here, their loved ones are safe from predators or headhunters who might desecrate their bodies. To signify their desire for their loved ones to reach heaven, they hang a coffin in the highest portion of the cave walls.
Ferries bound for heaven
Coffins such as in Sagada are a common form of container for the remains of the deceased during precolonial times. These coffins also occur in other places throughout the archipelago, such as the ones found in Banton, Romblon; Islas de Gigantes, Iloilo; and Lamanoc Island, Bohol. These islands are home to fishing communities and the lifestyle of its inhabitants is reflected in their boat-like coffins, which are interred inside caves near the coast.
Another common characteristic in our pre-colonial burial practices is the use of woven cloth to wrap the remains of the deceased. Remains found in Silak Cave in Banton, Romblon, were wrapped in woven hemp cloth called ikat. This cloth, said to be the oldest burial cloth in Southeast Asia, can now be seen at the National Museum in Manila. In Sagada, the remains of the deceased are still wrapped in traditionally woven cloth even today.
A ‘jarring’ tradition
Some pre-colonial communities, meanwhile, used jars to store their dead. A ubiquitous example is the Manunggul Jar found in the Tabon complex in Palawan, which was once portrayed in the old P1,000 bill. Again, the maritime geography and culture of the community is reflected in its design: a figure of a small boat driven by two people adorns the cover of the jar, signifying the ferrying of the dead to the afterlife.
Another example of this method of burial is the Maitum Anthropomorphic Jars found in Maitum, Saranggani. What makes these jars distinct from the Manunggul Jar are their humanlike shapes and intricate designs. Each jar has details—the head, arms, legs, and even the genitals— of the deceased stored in it. No two jars are alike since each jar depicts different emotional states, as seen on the head.
What binds these two examples of jar burial is that they are both secondary burial vessels. The deceased are buried in the ground where they are allowed to decompose, and their bones are transferred to the jars some time after. They also reflect our precolonial ancestors’ artistic prowess and advanced pottery skills.
Trees as final resting places
For most indigenous people, trees are a life-giving resource with its abundant fruit, strong timber, and other uses. But for the B’laan indigenous people of Lake Sebu in South Cotabato, trees also serve as a final resting place for the dead. The body of a deceased tribe member is wrapped using tree bark and hung on the tree tops. Rituals to mourn the dead are performed, which last from three months to a year depending on the social status of the deceased.
However, the practice of tree burial is not exclusive to the B’laan. In rural Cavite, some folks prefer to be laid to rest inside tree trunks. In their approach of imminent death due to old age or disease, a person is asked to choose a tree as a final resting place. A hut is then built beside that tree where a person will await death.
After a person takes the last breath, a vertical hole is carved into the tree trunk, large enough for the corpse to fit. The corpse is wrapped and entombed inside the hollowed-out tree, encased in tree bark and resin to prevent the stench of decomposition from coming out.
Regardless of the differences ethnic groups in the Philippines have concerning death traditions and practices, they are bound together by their common respect for their deceased loved ones. No matter how strange or uncanny these practices maybe to us today, this is their way of remembering and honoring the life once lived by people closest to their hearts, and how the living vow to cherish these memories. After all, death is not just for the deceased—death is for the living.