Introduction
Having lived in the informal settlement of Botocan (in Quezon City, Philippines) for nearly 5 months now, I have come to recognize that whenever a ‘tent’ awning goes up spanning the width of the major foot path between my abode and the basketball court (the barangay’s major intersection of foot paths), there’s bound to be a wake for a funeral beneath that tent.
Awning on my street under which people gather for the funeral wake.
The wake I observed spanned the whole of 8 days from Oct. 10 to Oct. 17, 2011. Following the protocol advised by my informant, because neither I nor my friends knew the family, I made observations as I passed by multiple times a day, going to and from school and Bible study. I was told that I would be most welcome and inconspicuous attending on one or both of the culminating days, when crowds show up for the “Last Lamay” or final farewell. Unfortunately, I had calculated that this wake, like every prior wake I had experienced, would last 10 days. I showed up on the 9th day only to find that every sign of the mourning party had been dissembled.
I found out later that the 10 day period is not as set in stone as I had originally understood, but fluctuates, primarily depending on how long it takes to gather just enough money to cover the cost of the burial. Money exclusively for funeral expenses (as I will expound upon later) is donated from proceeds of the gambling that takes place literally ’round the clock beneath the ‘tent’ awning.
To finish with a sense of completion, I interviewed my community informant to fill in the culminating day’s details I missed, but expounded mostly in this report upon my observations in the initial 8 days of the wake.
I set out for the purpose of learning as much as possible through presence and questioning of community members, and was intrigued particularly by the roles of community members, superstitions surrounding death, and sense of ‘presence’ of the recently deceased.
Description & Interpretation
An urban poor Filipino funeral wake is a curious thing, especially as viewed from a middle class Western perspective.
As soon as a person passes away, news spreads like wildfire, and is picked up by numerous “FCs” (Field Coordinators), community members strategically hired by vying politicians to be the ears of the community. Then it’s a race between the FCs to report the death to their chief of staff, who then commissions on behalf of the aspiring politician that a ‘tent’ awning, as well as provisions for the funeral, such as a bouquet, guest-food, and money, be delivered to the family of the deceased. The first gift-clad political team to arrive on the scene gets to set up their tent with the politician’s face, name, and/or logo plastered conspicuously on all four sides. The runner-up political teams are chastised by their leaders for not arriving in time with their own tents. Their only next chance to make a good political impression is to out-do the other politicians with larger, more impressive bouquets (again, with no shame in blatantly advertising from whom the bouquet is sent). The urban poor population actually makes up the majority of the voters in metro Manila, so politicians don’t hold back in treating even the least economically significant families like royalty, trying to win their confidence that this politician, if voted for, will remember the poor.
Outside the house of the recently deceased, shaded beneath the large political opportunist’s awning are several small plastic card tables, encircled by 4-8 white plastic chairs, beginning to be occupied by family, friends and neighbors. Traditional Filipino culture assumes that the dead are still present in spirit up until the time of their internment in the cemetery, and cognizant of all that is said and done in proximity to their body. For that reason, in true communal Filipino fashion, it is expected that someone will also be keeping company with the beloved recently departed. People literally sit at these tables ’round the clock, taking turns keeping vigil. To help them stay awake, the tradition of card playing and gambling has been implemented, accompanied by alcohol and coffee. One might argue that the gambling itself, which is otherwise looked down upon (but enjoyed by many), may be the primary reason that some of the visitors who don’t necessarily know the family quite as well are still present. It’s customary (expected, in fact) that at least 25% of the winnings from gambling will be donated to the family to help pay for funeral expenses, which often start at P20,000 (USD$465) for the casket and burial crew. (The fact that the money is going for a good cause is what justifies the permission of gambling in this situation.) Many times in poor communities, the gambling continues for as many nights as it takes to raise the appropriate funds — usually 10 days, give or take a few days. (By contrast, in the middle class Filipino Christian circles, where fundraising is not necessary, the widespread phenomenon of gambling is also omitted.)
The mood of those gathered outside to keep vigil for the dead by gambling is light, which is a polite way to lift the spirits of the mourning family. Visitors do consider themselves ‘sympathizers’ / ‘mourners,’ but the deepest expressions of grief are reserved for those most closely associated with the recently departed. The Tagalog expression for what the visitors are doing, “nakakanamay,” still expresses more than “I’m present / attending a wake,” but rather, “I am fully immersed, participating in sympathizing with the family.”
Just inside the house (visible from the street) of the most recent funeral-wake I observed, fewer people, more solemn, are also gathered in the same room as the casket. It is positioned with the feet of the dead pointing toward the door, in accordance with an old superstition, the reason for which is lost to bygone days. The portion on the casket that covers most of the body is closed, but the part covering the head is lifted, with only a piece of glass on the coffin separating the face of the departed from the eyes of the observers. Atop the center of the coffin is a single lit candle, a symbol of inviting the spirit of the deceased to move freely around its familiar premises. Also atop the coffin, depending on the time & day, is a plate of food for the deceased. As often as the family prepares a special meal, they also set aside the portion that the dead family member would have ordinarily eaten. This is practiced more as remembrance; they don’t actually believe that the dead consume the food in any way. It’s just a sign of inclusion, which will later be broken upon removal of the casket.
Inside the casket, the body is either posed with a clenched fist or open palm, left in the same form as the person took when they died, whether clenched in pain or relaxed and at peace. Filipino superstition holds that an open palm means that the spirit of the dead is glad to assist, making it easy for the family to collect the “abuloy,” (the money for the funeral expenses). A clenched fist means that the spirit is currently working against the collection. If the palm is open, family members will place money in the hand, which will later be retrieved at the end of the wake and distributed to immediate family members for good luck in financial prosperity. Also on the hand, whether opened or closed, is a beaded rosary, snipped in order to break the “chain of death.” Coincidentally, when one person in a community dies, it’s not unheard of for another to follow within the next few days. It’s feared that perhaps the spirit of the recently deceased has a part in pulling another along with it. Sure enough, within a few days of the start of the particular wake I’m observing, another tent awning popped up a few hundred meters away in the basketball court. Another death, confirming the suspected chain of events.
Beside the coffin are the competing flower arrangements from the vying politicians, as well as seating furniture for the mourners. It’s common practice for one or several mourners to be talking with the dead, often getting unresolved emotions off their chest. A lot of drama can come out at funerals; long-held secrets are revealed; pleas of forgiveness are begged of the deceased, whose spirit is believed to still be in the room, listening. (In the same way that a Westerner might rush to see a dear one before they pass so that they can say their good-byes and find closure, a Filipino might be deliberate about saying good-bye post mortem. Filipinos actually try not to make a big deal about death before it happens. A dying elder, for example, might not tell their family if the doctor informs the elder of impending death, so as not to trouble or worry the family. As a result, death sometimes takes a family by surprise, and most of the traditions giving closure to the passing of a loved one happen after their departure.)
After a few days, the house starts to get a bit dirty/messy, but no one starts to sweep or clean up: first, because mourners are not expected to toil, and second, to uphold another superstitious tradition: Also in attendance (so they say) are the ancestral spirits. Since we don’t know where they’re nestled, there’s a chance we might disturb or offend them by sweeping. So that’s reserved for the last day.
Immediate (living) family members in mourning are automatically excused from jobs, without even having to submit a leave of absence. While mourning, according to tradition, they’re also not supposed to shower. In the city, this practice gets modified from the diligence with which it is upheld in the province. Family members can shower — just not in the house that contains the casket. Bathing is considered a comfort, and mourners are not supposed to be making themselves comfortable in that manner while grieving.
Relatives come great distances to attend the wake. The one on the foot path by my house was attended for 2 of the days by somewhat wealthy relatives, as evidenced by the two cars that had wedged their way in and parked along the side (taking up over 1/2 the width) of the foot path. What can you say, though, to people in mourning? So the cars were permitted to stay.
Visitors are expected to come with food to be shared amongst all those in attendance. The immediate family of the deceased is responsible for coming up with the rest that’s needed to keep their guests fed — not every meal, but they should always have at least some light snacks available.
The “Last Lamay” is the culminating night of the 10 (or so) day wake. For this, everyone who has any interest is invited to be present all night (gambling), keeping vigil even into the morning, at which point the events of the burial begin.
As the family prepares to remove the coffin from the house, the attitude toward the dead one changes. Instead of acknowledging their presence as a member of the family, they begin to encourage the spirit to acknowledge its own reality that its body is once again becoming one with the earth, and the spirit is expected to leave the house of its former family.
First, immediately upon lifting the coffin to remove it, the plate that had been set on the coffin with the inclusive portion of food, is tossed on the floor, broken, and promptly swept up, signifying that the spirit no longer has place here with this family. The coffin is carried out the door (being careful not to rub up against the house… or anyone else’s house along the way for that matter, lest death should come upon that house as well). As the coffin exits, so should the spirit of the dead, plus the spirits of all the ancestors who came to join in the wake. To ensure that the spirits (and all their belongings) leave at once, the house is thoroughly swept, and all the windows are closed. Every living person also exits the house; anyone remaining is sure to be met soon by death.
I was not privy to attend the funeral itself, but learned these details and thought them interesting to report:
The funeral procession (called the ‘funeralia’) proceeds to a Catholic chapel, where holy water is sprinkled on the coffin, to instill in the recently passed spirit that he/she is returning to the elements from whence he/she came. On the way to the cemetery, traditionally-minded Chinese Filipinos toss money into the streets for good luck. (I was told that Filipino road maintenance crews are quick to take advantage of this display, unrestrained by any particular beliefs about not disturbing the money.)
Once at the cemetery, the urban poor are most often buried in the cheapest fashion: “apartments” stacked one atop another. Before sliding the coffin into its final resting place, small children are passed over the coffin, as a sign of forgiveness, fulfilling the superstition that perhaps the child mistakenly offended the dead and didn’t ask forgiveness from the spirit during the wake. This ritual serves to absolve the child and prevent the spirit from coming back to unfinished business and doing harm to the child. Wailing (primarily from the women) ensues as the coffin is slid into its compartment.
After the burial, the final tradition is that the attendees should go to the house where the wake was held, and wash their hands there, as a final closing to the proceedings.
None of the money that was raised from the gambling for the family can be kept after the funeral; it all must be spent (on snacks for the guests, if nothing else) during the course of the wake & funeral).
After these 10 or so days, everything seems to have returned to normal. There are no lingering signs of a funeral having been at the house; visitors return home, family members bathe and return to work. The spirit is now part of the spirit world and it is hoped that it will not return to the home, having been given a proper farewell.
