Death and burial among ancient Visayans

A. Paulita Roa

I FIND it fascinating to read many accounts of the ancient Filipinos particularly the Visayans who clearly had a rich culture long before the arrival of the Spaniards. The books of the highly respected Philippine prehistorian, Dr. William Henry Scott provided us a wealth of information on the practices of our ancestors in life as well as for their dead. From Scott’s book, “Looking for the Prehispanic Filipino” (1992 :130 – 133)), I am sharing their interesting custom when a datu or a family member died, the period of mourning that they observed and the burial.

“When a paganito or medicine man failed to revived his dying patient, the one last desperate rite was performed – to call back the departed soul – the paguli. A coconut shell filled with water was placed on the stomach of the patient and rotated to the chants of ‘Uli, uli, kalag’ (come back, come back soul). In case of the dying datu, some of his slaves were sacrificed in the hope they would be accepted in his stead by the ancestor spirit who was calling him away. Or an itatanun expedition would be sent to take captives from another community. These captives were first intoxicated then sacrificed in a variety of brutal ways.

“The cadaver was usually anointed and groomed as in life, though in Cebu subjected to a ritual haircut: Pigafetta attended a funeral in which the widow lay on the body, mouth to mouth while this mournful ritual was performed. So to be assured of a ready reception in the next life, the deceased was bedecked with the jewelry he was accustomed to wear on festive occasions, and as much gold as possible, some even placed in his mouth and between the layers of as many as ten blankets with which he was shrouded. Aromatics like camphor were applied for their embalming effect and the house was fumigated with porcelain jars of burning incense.

“During a wake which lasted as long as the bereaved family could supply food and drinks fo guests, the widow or widower, together with first degree kin, were secluded behind tattered white hangings – actually mapuraw, undyed, not maputi, white. Professional mourners, generally old women, sang dirges which emphasized the grief of the survivors ( who responded with wails) and eulogized the qualities of the deceased – the bravery and generosity of men, the beauty and industry of women, and the sexual fulfillment of either.These eulogies were addressed directly to the deceased and included prayers of petition: they were therefore form of ancestor worship, one of such vigor that Spanish missionaries were never able to eradicate it.

“Though poor Visayans were buried wrapped in banana leaf in simple caskets of thin boards oer even of bamboo, the standard Visayan coffin was made of a hardwood like ipil incorruptible enough to outlast its contents. It was hewn from a single tree trunk with a lid cut from the same piece, fitted, pegged and caulked airtight with resin or tagok (this hermetic seal was an essential feature since coffins were often kept unburied in the house). These were called longon, a term that the Visayans did not apply to the sort of casket introduced by the Spanish missionaries).

“The corpse was placed in the coffin with all the body cavities filled with buyo sap, together with finery and such heirloom valuables as porcelain jars or plates and saucers placed under the head like a pillow or over the face and breasts. Some wore actual masks and mouthpieces of beaten gold, or were provided with bejeweled sidearms, and ax handle was placed on the coffin of a bingil, a woman who had known no man other than her husband – just as the hole in the ax handle fit only the ax head made for it.Infants, newborn and aborted babies were buried in crocks or jars, sometimes Chinese porcelains with matching lids.

“Renowned sea raiders sometimes left instructions for their burial. One in Leyte directed that his longon be placed in a shrine on the seacoast between Abuyog and Dulag, where his kalag could serve as a patron for followers in his tradition. Many were interred in actual boats. The most celebrated case was a Bohol chieftain who was buried a few years before Legazpi’s arrival in a caracoa with 70 slaves, a full complement of oarsmen. Or a slave called a dayo might be stationed in a datu’s tomb for the rest of his life to guard it against robbers and aswang, with the right to feed himself off anybody’s fields, a security enviable in a subsistence economy. slaves were also sacrificed at a datu’s death, even being killed in the same manner in which he had died. These slaves were usually foreign captives, but occasionally a lifelong personal attendant known as atobang, who expected to follow his master to the grave. The most dramatic expression of grief for a departed parent was to dismantle or burn the house where he died, or cut down trees he had planted. All these things, like a slave sacrificed to accompany him were called ‘onong’ something which shares the same fate.”

Even today, we still have our many customs and beliefs on death, mourning and burial which can be traced to our ancestors though these are now heavily influenced by what many called folk Christianity – that is part of our cultural DNA. The prayers of the dead usually led by old women and said in Visayan, Spanish and poor Latin and those feastings during the tapos and cuarenta dias. Now there is already the practice of serving food – buffet style for the mourners and weepy necrological services with matching videos, and elaborate flower arrangements to rival a debutante ball.