Roots
Pista’y Inatey
By Marifi Jara
ONE of our readers, a US-based Pangasinense who requested that we use his penname AG, contributed this piece saying he was inspired “to write about my youthful experience of the Pistay Inatey in San Carlos which is now like a black and white picture framed on the wall”.
As a little boy, I anticipated the “Pistay Inatey” holiday because that would be the only time when I could visit the cemetery without any fear of the ghosts and other supernatural bodies that I had presumed to have lived in the cemetery. Stories about ghosts were handed to me by friends and older relatives who would scare me when I would pass through mangroves of big acacia and mango trees for fear that I would disturb their tranquility. In grade school, I admired a classmate who lived adjacent to the cemetery for his bravery and composure in confronting the spirits of the dead. I had always avoided getting near the cemetery but during this holiday celebration, the watchful eyes of the people visiting their loved ones provided me comfort and safety.
My day would start early in the afternoon when my friends and I would venture to the burial place of the dead. We would walk around and take notes of the oldest dead person in the cemetery, the biggest tombstone and the biggest gravesite. We would try to avoid nooks and other areas that were not easily accessible for fear that the ghosts would be waiting. With multitude of people milling up and down the aisles, the place would eventually be enveloped with clouds of dust and then the thousands of flickering candles would produce the burning candle redolence that would remind my superstitious young mind of the eerie presence of the dead people in the vicinity.
From morning till late evening, the cemetery would be the place to go where people would meet other people and the place would descend into a rendezvous for relatives visiting their common ancestors. My grandparents died before I had any recollection about them and my memories were only confined to my visits to their gravesites. This occasion would also be the time to meet my distant relatives and cousins and renew friendships to those who lived a distance away from my hometown. At the end of the day, when I came back home, a plateful of ginataan mixture of deremen and young coconut would be waiting for me to feast on and the leftover would be cooked by my mother to avoid spoilage. There were times when we would be victims of mischievous acts perpetuated in the still of the night by some bored and creative teenagers.
As I grew older, the holiday would take a different tone for me. I would still care to visit the gravesites but a more interesting scenario would make the visits more enjoyable. This time I knew where my friends and the girls would be hanging out and I would never miss to flirt with them but at the end the girls could handle better the art of flirting. I remember meeting girls and starting new friendships that had lasted for decades. My participation to the All Saints’ Day celebration ceased when I went to college in Manila which was quite a ways for a one day holiday. Soon after I graduated from college I immigrated to the USA and I had never had a chance to experience again the Pistay Inatey holiday so whenever I had opportunity to visit my hometown, I made sure that visiting the gravesites of my relatives would be my first priority.
Nowadays, I just take comfort that I had had good childhood experiences which became part of my cultural heritage, a heritage that makes me proud of my San Carlenian roots.
(Readers may reach columnist at marifijara@gmail.com. For past columns, click http://sundaypunch.prepys.com/archives/category/opinion/roots/
For reactions to this column, click “Send MESSAGES, OPINIONS, COMMENTS” on default page.)
Share your Comments or Reactions
Powered by Facebook Comments
