A few steps away from where I live is the Catholic Cemetery of Banica, the oldest and the largest in Capiz, if my conjecture is correct. The burial ground’s megasize, however, has its nucleus in the confines of a Spanish wall. An avenue of coconuts and santan welcomes visitors towards a towering arch entrance. At the center of this niche-lined Spanish wall is the domed chapel, covered by moss and ferns and worn out by the absence of preservation.
Spaniards established cemeteries outside of the poblacion for health and hygiene purposes, and practical reasons, as well. Death by cholera, which came in a decadal cycle in the 1800s, numbered by the thousands and it was impractical to host these bodies inside the church (for the rich) and outside (for the poor). The fear of contamination led the priests to bury the dead away from the population [1].
By1851, el Pueblo de Capiz already had a cemetery outside the town, which was “in good condition and is capable and ventilated.” [2] Between 1870s and 1880s, Augustinian priest Apolinar Alvarez, "did the work in the cemetery which with later retouching was finished by his successor P. Lesmes-Perez [3]. Fr. Alvarez was also responsible for the construction of the cathedral from 1870 until 1885.
The arch leading to the capilla adds up to the cemetery's imposing feel. Surrounding the cemetery chapel are the mausoleums of the landed families of the old el Pueblo de Capiz. Lining the avenue from the old archway to the chapel are prominent names: Eleuterio Acuña, grandfather of President Manuel Roxas, a host of Alvarezes, Acevedos, Aldeas and Altavases. What struck me the most is the pantheon of the Deocampo Family, built in the art deco style following the designs of a sculptor named Justo Abiertas. Pastor Alcazar, the trailblazing presidente municipal of Capiz has his remains placed in the discreet corner of his family's vault. Jovita Fuentes' siblings are laid at the family's resting place. Local leader Mabini Altavas' tomb has a statue of blindfolded Justitia, an allusion to his just character.
Cemeteries used to be art spaces and pre- and postwar resting places were made imposing by statues of angels or women depicted in sorrow. Even in death, the notion of keeping up with the Joneses still applies. Just like the houses of the living need to be close to the church to claim social prominence, in death, one’s position in the community is affirmed at how close one’s mausoleum is to the capilla. No wonder a Chinese mausoleum stood outside the Spanish walls. The deprived natives who could not cope up in paying the annual dues for the nichos would expect that the remains of their dead relatives to be “cast ruthlessly” at a bone heap at the back of the cemetery. The emptied nicho would then be leased to tenants capable of paying the yearly fees. [5]
The cemetery is an important part of every Filipino’s way of life, as much as the souls of the dearly departed hold dear in the heart of their loved ones. Cemeteries are both sentimental spaces and heritage places. Sentimental because by merely looking at the lapida of our dearly departed, we reminisce our past with them, sometimes leaving the most maudlin, teary eyed. Furthermore, a cemetery’s significance lay beyond serving as a mere “memorial park” because it is, more importantly, a heritage site. They are “venues where customs and traditions relating to the dead and survivors are played out,” [4] evinced on the material culture (architectural style of the pantion, design of the lapida, wrought-iron works, tiles, etc.) and the more complex intangible heritage associated with the cemetery (such as prayers, lighting of candles, food for the dead, and other beliefs and practices).
Historians also frequent cemeteries because they are reliable source materials as we ascertain the lives of famous personalities, trace our ancestry, and validate whether one has really existed or not. A look at the architectural style of the pantion, tomb, mauseleum, arches, walls, and the capilla reveals the age and significance of the church, a remnant of a bygone era. It is, however, lamentable, that we don’t value cemeteries as much as we value churches and old houses. In Europe and the United States of Gilded Age, enjoying a picnic at the cemetery on any given time was fashionable. Today, however, cemeteries have become the objects of the growing “cemetery” tourism in these countries. In the Philippines, however, except for November 1 and 2, church-owned cemeteries, in particular, languish and left at the mercy of illegal settlers who call neglected mausoleums and pantions home sweet home. At the Banica Cemetery, balete trees are in a creeping spree at the capilla, their overgrowth haphazardly cut without uprooting the roots that damage the structure's integrity.
I'm sharing with you some pictures I took last year. Enjoy!
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| The remains of Pastor Alcazar, the Batangas-born presidente muncipal of Capiz, was kept in a corner of the family mausoleum. |
References
[1] Michaelangelo E. Dakudao (1992). THE DEVELOPMENT OF CEMETERIES IN MANILA BEFORE 1941. Philippine Quarterly of Culture and Society, 20, (2/3), 133-150. http://www.jstor.org/stable/29792084.
[2] E.
Manuel Buzeta (1850). Diccionario Geografico, Estadistico, Historico de las
islas Filipinas. Madrid. Book located at Harvard College Library, digital copy
available at Google Books.
[3] R.Morales Maza (1987). The Augustinians in Panay. Iloilo City: University of San Agustin.
[4] Grace Barretto-Tesoro (2012). “Heritage Structures in Two Manila Cemeteries.” ACCU Nara International Correspondent The Ninth Regular Report, 33-36. Nara, Japan: Cultural Heritage Protection Cooperation Office, Asia Pacific Cultural Center for UNESCO (ACCU).
[5] Mary Helen Fee (1912). A Woman’s Impressions of the Philippines. Chicago: A.C. McClurg & Co.
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