KALAG-KALAG and How Not To Disturb the Dead

Kalag-kalag, Bangkok-Style

‘Kalag’ is the Ilonggo word for soul and 'kalag-kalag’ is the act of remembering the souls of our dearly departed. When I was growing up, this was how my family would spend the first two days of November. It meant saying prayers and lighting candles -- one for each dead member of the family. On my mother’s side, it was her four brothers, who met tragic deaths in their youth. One had died from food poisoning, while another was hit by a falling tree, that killed him instantly. On my father’s side, I cannot remember. All I knew was that six candles had to remain lighted throughout the day. Once a candle had melted to its last bits, with the wick barely aflame, it had to be immediately replaced. This was done so as not to disturb the ‘peace of the soul’ it was burning for. For safety reasons, we had the lighted candles positioned outside the house, but near the doorway, where they could be easily seen. For best results, it was recommended to use tall bulky candles, which burned for hours and hours. Apart from the candle-burning ritual, there were intermittent trips to the cemetery, if only to assuage our dead that they were not yet forgotten.

There was nothing festive about the whole thing. In fact, if it wasn’t for the suman (glutinous rice cooked in sugar and coconut milk and peppered with latik) being prepared and served for the occasion, it seemed more like an abridged version of ‘holy week’ --  in that, it was a time for silence and contemplation. Then again, maybe it was just my parents. Not that I stayed silent and contemplative during those times – but I do remember being admonished to keep still and refrain from horsing around. 

So no, I can’t relate much to all the revelry of ‘halloween’ and what it has evolved into today. Yes, this whole costume-party frenzy and trick-or-treating are as alien as easter egg-hunting to me. While I am not vehemently against these borrowed traditions, it’s the mad consumerism of it all that I can’t stand.

After I left my hometown to study and live permanently in Manila, I reenacted the same annual kalag-kalag ritual. And, when I started working, the solemnity of the event started to dissipated. Instead, November 1 and 2 became holidays to look forward to, especially if they fell close to a weekend, because it meant longer days off work.

Throughout the years, we accumulated more dead relatives: a cousin, my grandparents, uncles and aunts. So, I would faithfully light the candles –though I eschewed the whole-day burning ritual. I mean, I had other things to do than make sure I wouldn’t burn the house down. And other than my dead relatives, I eventually also lighted candles for departed friends, especially those ravaged by cancer or AIDS. But when the number of deaths increasingly became more frequent (and unbearably so), especially before ARVs became available, the candles just weren’t enough. So I made a cosmic pact with those beloved souls that one candle could represent them all at once -- a set of friends, a number of relatives, and important colleagues. And yes, I also lighted candles for River Phoenix and Michael Jackson.