2 posts tagged “bangaan”
Can someone please tell me what this flower is called?
Took thi picture outside my grand-aunt's house in Bangaan.
On Thursday, God took one of His faithful servants. My Grandfather's sister, Deacon Esperanza Somebang, passed away at a ripe old age of 88.
We saw her last in June, during our Sagada vacation. We visited her at her house in Bangaan, where she later died. After our visit, she apparently took a turn for the worse and her condition deteriorated. My grandpa (Papa), went to be with her a few weeks ago. Came home to replenish his prescriptions, and took the tedious trip back to the place of his birth. He was there when they needed to have two people on rotating shifts to be with her on a full 24-hour basis. They say she was in so much pain in her last days.
Early morning on Saturday (at around 2am), my mom, Auntie Becky, Uncle Walter, Manong Clyde (older cousin), Ada and her husband and 2 kids, left Manila and took the 12-hour trip to pay our last respects. The trip was not without danger; it had been raining and there were mud- and rockslides at some parts of the road which wound through 7 mountains. Thanks to the trusted driver who is used to traversing that road, we arrived and came home again safely. There were times though that it really seemed like one big adventure, because you could only see about 10 meters ahead due to the thick fog; specially on the trip home.
But this post isn't about the trip itself, and not about the beauty of Bangaan. It's about the beauty of my grand-aunt's life. The life, and death, of my Lola Esper.
She is older than my Papa, and it is sad that I didn't really get to know her and her work so much. What I remember of her is that when we were kids and she would be around for a visit, we had to behave and be quiet around her. She had the reputation of being masungit, uptight and strict. In fact, the first time I visited Sagada in 2004, I was hesitant to visit her because of that reputation.
It wasn't until three years ago that this perception changed.
My grandmother had died and she was there at the funeral. She was very cordial and nice to everyone. We didn't see her raise her eyebrows. And I was actually able to talk to her. She asked me who the young man with me was, asking if that was my brother. It was boyfriend actually. She then joked, directly to boyfriend, that we should hurry up and get married! She was nice after all.
I walked her to where she was staying at the time and we got to chat a little. I told her I visited Bangaan and Bomod-ok falls earlier that year. She said that the young ones (referring to us apos) were always visiting Sagada but never bothered to visit their old Lola in Bangaan. I told her that I did try and visit, but that she was in Baguio at the time.
We had other chances to see her after that, for she visited Papa whenever she was around for her check-ups. She also stays for a few days before her US trips. She was a strong woman, forceful. At an old age she was still walking to church, and didn't mind going on the long trip from the mountains, nor the long-haul plane rides.
There was even a party, early this year (or was it late last year?) for her, right here. Papa said that he wanted that going away party before Lola Esper left for the States because it might be the last time they would see each other. She was supposed to be leaving for good; to live the rest of her life in the US where she had ready (and free, I think) access to world-class medical care. It was a fun dinner and I really should look for the pictures we took...
She came back after a few months though. We learned from Auntie Nellie that she had a return trip for the US but she decided to stay on.
It is tradition that people sing about the dead's life during the wake. They call it Baya-o (I hope I spelled it right). When we arrived, Papa sang about our arrival. Telling Lola Esper that her relatives from Manila have come to see her and wish her a safe trip to heaven. He was singing in Igorot, the local vernacular, so I couldn't understand everything. I had to ask my aunt, and sometimes my mom, to translate for me (pity me).
There were many others who spoke and sang their tributes. Whatever her reputation was, she was a benevolent woman who helped a lot of people throughout her lifetime. She was a healer, a nurse during World War II, and later in the Public Health sector in Alaska, and elsewhere in the US. She was also a Sister of the Convent of St. Mary the Virgin; and later, an ordained Deacon of the Episcopal Church. The latter she attained after a lot of hard work, I think, on her part too.
She inspired a lot of people too, for she lived a full life in and outside of the illy, the village. She has inspired others to dream big, and to work hard to achieve their goals, even outside of the village.
Many people came, some had to travel far and wide to get there to pay their last respects. It was a testament of how she brought people together, so they say. The elder high priest (pagan) even had to mention that and made her an example. Saying that hopefully everyone else would do the same as she did in her life.
I didn't witness the closing of her coffin, but my mom says it was very emotional. The high pries put ashes on her face, making her look a bit dirty. They say it was to break the cycle of deaths. It was said that when my own grandmother died, she looked so alive in the coffin, as if she was just sleeping. They say it was because of that that somebody else followed her closely, that my aunt died sooner. So to make sure that no one would yet follow, he put those marks on her face.
The Christian rituals were also nicely done. She was taken to the Church at lunch time where a mass was held, presided by a number of clergymen, including the Diocesan Bishop. Hymns were sung and prayers were said. The Bishop preached about Lola Esper's determination and his few encounters with her.
Then all the clergy lined up to bless her just before the end of the mass.
Being the last surviving sibling, and now considered the clan's Lakay, my grandpa had to speak after the mass. He mostly said thanks for the overwhelming show of love and support for the family.
According to tradition, he couldn't to the actual burial, so he headed to the blue house right after the mass. We followed him because we weren't staying for the burial either. We had to head home before sundown. One more tradition was that relatives were to wash their hands in the house of the dead. And that's what we did before we left.
Papa is still there and he's staying until the ninth day prayers where a Requiem mass will be held and brunch will be served for those who will attend. He seems to be holding up well. It's good that he won't have to travel home alone since there will be others heading back to Manila too. I can't help but wonder though, with the death of his sister, he has no solid ties to Bangaan anymore. Even if it is his birthplace, his village, he came to Manila as a young man and built his life and raised his family right here.
