"The present is the key to
the past," this was the quote I read which I introduced to my students
when we were talking about the age of the Earth; comparing uniformitarianism
and catastrophism - two contrasting Theories of Earth Geological Evolution.
"The present is the key to
the past," was the very line I can relate with as I had my trip in Silay
City, Negros Occidental.
The sugarcane plantation lining
the concrete road is a manifestation of Negro's industry. Then I learned the story of the Maskara
Festival. During the late 80's, the sugarcane industry plummeted tremendously
in the Philippine market. Various reasons were cited including the import of
sugar from other countries. When the economy went down, workers were retrenched
and that was the cause of the great fall of Negros.
However, the pure Ilonggo's
spirit driven by culture and mindset never gave up. Ilonggos are always proud
people. They put on happy faces and continued to survive despite of the
circumstance. Thus, the Maskara Festival - a masquerade to cover their
difficulties. Ate Charyl, Mai's sister-in-law, narrated the story to us while
we were on the road for Silay.
I could sense that we were now in
a different city. From the towering building construction of Bacolod, I felt I
was displaced by time. The real essence of Silay City was comparable to that of
a Spanish Colonial Era.
The houses were made of strong wooden materials, windows that of shell decoratives in squares, and coral stones served as the foundation of each casa. I was beyond mesmerized. There was something magical in the place. It was something unexplainable yet beautiful.
The houses were made of strong wooden materials, windows that of shell decoratives in squares, and coral stones served as the foundation of each casa. I was beyond mesmerized. There was something magical in the place. It was something unexplainable yet beautiful.
We first dropped by at Cafe 1925
for a short coffee break. After which, Ate Charyl brought us to Balay Negrense
Museum. It was located a block away from the cafe. An ancestral house of Victor
Fernandez Gaston that was later on turned into a heritage house. It was
considered as one of the oldest houses in Silay or maybe in Negros.
The place was enchanting, at the
same time, inviting but mysterious. Nonetheless, I was excited to get inside.
Maybe it was because I am in love with something conventional that brought my
feet inside the mahogany floor of the house and my soul to bewilderment in this
Spanish casa.
There were different displays of
Filipiniana dresses, old lampshades, an old record player, photographs and some
other antiquities. Mai and I walked around each room. One time, I happened to
get inside a room filled with photographs. From there, a strange feeling
enveloped me. There were tears of great sadness flowing from my eyes as I
lingered inside the room. When I went out, I told Mai about my experience. At a
moment, I couldn't utter a single word from the brief encounter. It was so
peculiarly melancholic.
The second floor was more
bewitching than I could ever imagine. Though there were different rooms, we
were not allowed to get inside. Paying a visit in Balay Negrense means you only
had the chance to see the display in each room outside but you aren't allowed
to touch any single thing.
I looked at the nursery room.
There were plenty of dolls, and books for children. It was in this room that I
suddenly felt the chill. My legs weren't moving. As if my spine was braced to
that cold metal that somewhat paralyzed me. I told Mai again. I told her that
the room was totally strange. She confirmed.
At the opposite room across the
nursery was something supernatural. As I busied myself looking at the different
Filipina dresses, a sudden flash of white dress with a hollow face appeared
next to the dress I was looking at. I thought it was just a reflection. I
looked at my back but there wasn't any mirror. Then the hair at my nape stood
up as if it was unison of a silent orchestra.
Was it just my imagination? Was it just something that I created in my mind to convince me that the place was totally ancient and there were spirits living in the area? Those questions popped in my mind. Mai and I went down to the souvenir area as a man appeared behind us and introduced himself as the guide. He accompanied us to the shop.
Was it just my imagination? Was it just something that I created in my mind to convince me that the place was totally ancient and there were spirits living in the area? Those questions popped in my mind. Mai and I went down to the souvenir area as a man appeared behind us and introduced himself as the guide. He accompanied us to the shop.
He said that the place is a
common place for ghost hunting since it was abandoned for a couple of years
until it was restored. Additionally, at the shop, there were paintings from
different local artists and some other crafts. The guide even pointed at us the
underground. I was curious to get inside the last part of the house but then he
stopped me. He told me that the strongest entity lives there. I was about to
get inside but I felt the chill again. It was so strong that I opted not to.
Since the clock struck 2 in the afternoon and Ate Charyl had an appointment to make, Mai and I hurried back to the entrance door to meet her. Then we passed by Cinco De Noviembre Street. There stood a pseudo-farmacia. It was interesting to note that a fake drugstore was built to help the guerillas fought off the Spanish soldiers.
Since the clock struck 2 in the afternoon and Ate Charyl had an appointment to make, Mai and I hurried back to the entrance door to meet her. Then we passed by Cinco De Noviembre Street. There stood a pseudo-farmacia. It was interesting to note that a fake drugstore was built to help the guerillas fought off the Spanish soldiers.
My visit to Silay City though short
was something memorable, informative and exciting. It was a race against time.
It was supernatural. It was something not conventional. So, I pose this
question: Knowing that the present is the key to the past, do we still value
what was traditional in this contemporary world or do we allow modernization to
succumb us and eventually, to forget who we were once? How do we value our past
amid the present?
0 comments:
Post a Comment