To a lady of Chakchakan

CULTURAL NOTES

Richard Kinnud

Dear gentle lady, you have known me as one of your uncles uninhibited to visit your father at your home-away-from-home here in La Trinidad, Benguet. 
    Probably, you have some qualms at some point whenever we come because there is more likelihood than improbability that “80 proofs” will be opened and the naturally loud voices of your i-Bontoc father will become more thunderous afterwards. 
    But I believe you have always trusted him that his “cheers” will always be peaceful and for the good.  And so in our first visit at your home in Chakchakan, you would direct us immediately to Dalikan where your father went even without us asking, “Where is your father?”
    That image of a soft-spoken lady giving instructions on how to reach Dalikan was to me a happy memory.  But that reminiscence would soon be clouded by the second visit I would have at your home.  It was the day for the “fa-ag” of your death.  The snapshots of mourning on that day had remained in mind.
    We would soon find your father missing you a lot.  (And certainly your mother and two brothers feel the same too.)  He misses the lady who would be a caring sister, a tutor and a second mother to a younger brother.   He misses the lady that finishes home chores before he arrives home.  He misses the daughter who he sees would cowgirl up amidst hurdles.
    We can just tell him “life can sometimes be like that – not too lengthy yet complete” or some other similar sentences.   But we also listen and agree to the wisdom of what he says.  Through this year since your passing, your father would often insinuate realms in which her cowgirl – that’s you- interacts with the living.
    I have just finished reading a fiction novel entitled “Bone Talk” set at more than a century ago in a place called Bontok.  The author skillfully unfolded how ancestors of possibly the inhabitants of present-day Bontoc regarded in a good way the spirit of their kin who passed away.   The scenes in that fiction became a reality to me on our third visit to your home in Chakchakan on the occasion of the commemoration of your death. 
    I have heard how an am-ama would invoke spirits of your ancestor not to allow that you be alone and lonely in your current travails wherever you are.  And in the same manner, that the living be guarded from anything that causes sadness or fear because of your passing. 
    Was “umunud” to the teachings and ways of the Church or Churches sowing or tending to the prevailing faith in conflict with the practice of native traditions?  How we wish you could answer that for us.  What is certain now is that which is common to both - there is life after death.
    The last picture we’ve had before leaving your home was facing the green grasses over your burial place.  Green is a color hope.  Earlier on, the am-ama has pronounced “Nangafak taku!” (We were victorious!), at the conclusion of the ritual he lead probably referring to the invocations he made. 
    For the Churched, it could probably mean victory over earthly death because of the hope of resurrection as demonstrated in Jesus’s death.
    But will we have to wait for forever to see a concrete manifestation of this hope or of victory?
    Yesterday on the actual anniversary of your death, your father, perhaps at the instruction of elders butchered a native chicken, cooked it and invited us to partake.  We were careful not to let anything fall on the ground and that everything is consumed.  Even the bones won’t be consumed by dogs.  All was part of the ritual of remembering you.  Maybe sort of saying that the food we have here is solely for the living yet there are realms by which we can share together such as the “aroma.”  The phrase “aroma of victory” just fired to mind right now.
    A story I heard from childhood came to mind.  There was this child who left their home and became a bird.  While a bird, it would gather the best fruits from mountains and forests and bring them home while the family is asleep.  I find parallelism to your case.  Probably, there is a way by which you can gather “the best fruits” from the place where you are now which we believe to be a good place and bring them home.  This is a mystical but mysteries do happen.
    It may not happen as what happened in that story that the bird through the efforts of the family has turned to a person again.  What is certain now is that the mourning was publicly acknowledged to be over but the evoking of your existence will be forever.  Yes, gentle lady, we will always join your family in affirming the reality of your life. 
Your uncle, Richard.