| Two women take shelter under an umbrella while visiting the tomb of their deceased loved ones at the Manila South Cemetery on Monday as part of the tradition of All Souls Day. PHOTO BY MIGUEL DE GUZMAN |
ASK Filipinos to name any old cemetery in Manila, and many of them would readily list the La Loma, Manila Chinese and Manila North cemeteries in the city’s Santa Cruz district.
Some would even add the Manila South Cemetery in Makati City (Metro Manila). Others would also cite Paco Cemetery — now known as Paco Park — in the Manila district of the same name.
Little would they imagine, however, that other, lesser-known cemeteries in Manila had existed during the late Spanish and early American colonial periods. More surprisingly, some of these were located in the unlikeliest of places. What now stands in these former — and, one must emphasize, completely cleaned-out — graveyards may surprise people.
In her paper “Public Sanitation and Cemeteries in 19th Century Manila” and her slightly revised and unpublished version of it, titled “The World of the Necropolis: Public Health and Sanitation in 19th Century Manila Cemeteries,” architect and history researcher Lorelei D.C. de Viana indicated that some of these long-gone cemeteries — either located in town centers or church complexes — were not so unusual during that time.
Traditionally, the dead were generally interred in church premises, either inside the church or in the churchyard. The cemetery was located beside the church or behind it, or in front of, or at the side of convents. This practice pointed out to the reverence for those who died by placing their mortal remains in sacred ground,” de Viana wrote in her paper, the earlier version of which was published in the scholarly journal Unitas.
According to her, residents of Manila’s suburbs during the Spanish era followed this practice, noting that although the town church “had a cemetery adjacent to it, privileged citizens were allowed burial inside the church structure. This custom accounts for the existence of tombstones in church pavements and walls.”
“While this was a time-honored custom and tradition, burying the dead in the midst of thickly populated human settlements was not so favorable in the light of public health and sanitation.
The churchyards, which were sometimes used as areas for social activities, became vehicles of contamination as they were turned into breeding places of germs and bacteria,” de Viana said.
Cause of worry
“When people attended services in the church along with the interred dead, they were exposed to an unhealthy environment — a cause of worry for public health officials,” she added.
“This unhealthiness prompted authorities since the late 18th century to relocate cemeteries outside the town limits in order to protect the health of citizens, the architect said.
The Spanish authorities’ efforts to safeguard public health reached unprecedented levels when a devastating outbreak of cholera struck Manila in 1882. At its peak, the epidemic claimed thousands of lives, leading to the urgent creation of new cemeteries — La Loma, for instance — and the closure of existing ones due to lack of space or violations of municipal orders.
Two of those ordered closed were found in the working-class district of Manila’s Tondo district.
According to de Viana, the older cemetery was located in Barrio Tutuban, while the newer one was situated between what was called Canal de la Reyna and the shores of Manila Bay in Barrio Lecheros.
Built in 1882 after the Tutuban cemetery could no longer accommodate the dead, the Lecheros graveyard was also known as the cementerio de colericos because more than 2,000 cholera victims had been buried there before it was also closed.
Like Tondo, Santa Cruz also had two cemeteries (one for interment in niches; the other, for burials in the ground), which it established in accordance with government orders to relocate parochial graveyards outside the town proper.
The one that had niches was located in front of the Hospital de San Lazaro, while the other was situated on high ground in La Loma, the architect said.
The location of the cemetery near the hospital corresponds to the area where the Espiritu Santo Parish Church and its parochial school now sit, she added.
Similarly, the Most Holy Trinity Parish Church and its parochial academy in Barangay Balic-Balic in the Sampaloc district stand on what used to be the site of Balic-Balic Cemetery, said that Martin Gaerlan, another history researcher who had delivered a paper on the subject during the 19th Annual Manila Studies Conference last year.
This particular graveyard was created in 1884 in response to a government directive to move parochial cemeteries away from town centers and the difficulties the Sampaloc parish experienced during the cholera epidemic, he added.
Surprisingly, the once-genteel suburbs of Ermita and Malate districts, also in Manila, also had their own cemeteries then. Ermita’s was located near what was called the Polvorin de San Antonio Abad. That site corresponds to the area occupied today by the Harrison Plaza mall, according to de Viana.
The one in Malate, meanwhile, was described by the architect to be “circular in design and located at the back of the [Malate] Church, approximately 170 meters to the east.” What stands on the site of that cemetery today? Plaza Plaridel, more popularly known as Remedios Circle.
With the closure of these cemeteries, questions regarding the final fate of their occupants arise. Though historical documents addressing this matter were not readily available, it had been said that the corpses — or what remained of them — were carefully exhumed and either cremated or reburied in other, better cemeteries like La Loma and Paco.
In a day where most Filipinos remember their dead, it is regrettable that many of them are ignorant or have forgotten the existence of these cemeteries. Through the efforts of people like de Viana and Gaerlan, we can unearth more stories from Manila’s rich past that remain buried in these long-disappeared dwellings of the dead.
