XXVIII. Cantat Bis Orat, Part Four – A Three-Hundred-Year-Old Filipino Lenten Sing-Along

We’ve already started Holy Week, and in the Philippines, this signals the observance of a great number of traditional practices developed over the past few centuries of Christianity in these islands.  The most musical one of these is definitely the Pasyon, or Filipino Lenten chant. Its origins seem to date back to at least the 17^th century, with prayers and catechism texts authored by the early Spanish missionaries and set to chants used by the indigenous people.

The first milestone in its development is probably the versified narrative of the Passion, beginning with the Last Supper and ending with the Resurrection, authored by Gaspar Aquino de Belen of Rosario, Batangas, and published in 1703.  Over the following century, the narrative had slowly expanded to include even the Creation from the Book of Genesis.

In 1814, a major editorial effort culminated in the publication of “Kasaysayan ng pasyong mahal ni Jesucristong panginoon natin na sukat ipag-alab ng puso ng sinumang babasa,” also called “Pasyong Mahal” (The Sacred Passion).  Essentially, the initiative sought to rewrite or delete unorthodox texts and content from whatever was in current use at that time.  The editor of this church-sponsored project was a priest named Mariano Pilapil, and as a consequence, this pasyon is also known as “Pasyong Pilapil.”  Like the 1703 version, this newer edition continued the use of the Spanish “quintilla” format – a set of five verses, each of eight syllables, and with rhyming endings. 

Since then, various other editions have appeared, especially in Philippine languages other than Tagalog.  By the early post-World War II years, the entire nation was apparently Pasyon-literate in their own regional languages.

Today, the chanting of the Pasyon seems to be in relative currency, though various quarters complain that it is a dying tradition, brought about by the scarcity of traditional singers familiar with the “way it is supposed to be sung.”  The obvious next step is therefore, let’s simply learn how it’s meant to be sung.  And the obvious question is, do we have any recordings that we can use as references so that we can become self-taught Pasyon chanters? 

The answer is a bit complicated, so let me start with a simple version.  No, I have not come across any broadly-published documentary-type field recordings of actual Pasyon chanters in action.  This is a pity, because in order to learn how these chants are to be properly sung, it is best to listen to how they were ACTUALLY sung in some home or visita during Holy Week.
 

Instead, what is available are a couple of recordings of funky, modernized versions of the Pasyon.  The first one of these is inside the album “Langit: The Filipino Sings of Faith” from the Ateneo Glee Club.

There are four short tracks here that are excerpts from the Pasyon text, and do base their music on traditional Pasyon chants.  The album opens with “Pagsilang,” using the following stanza from the Pasyon: 

Nang malaon nang totoo, 

taong maikapat na libo, 
mulang lalangin ang mundo 
siyang nganing pagparito 
niyong sasakop sa tao. 

Because it has been arranged for a young modern choir, it is either really refreshing and innovative, or is irritatingly self-conscious and potentially irreverent, depending on your musical taste and religious profile.  I recommend listening to “Pagsilang” to see which part of the spectrum of listeners you might be in.  If you like what you hear, go ahead with the other tracks such as “Buhay,” “Handog," and “Alay” as well.

This recording just doesn’t do it for me, as I can’t imagine my family, friends, and fellow parishioners in Bulacan singing anything this way, especially not a religious text for Holy Week, unfortunately. 

(the Ateneo Glee Club singing Regina Caeli, an Easter antiphon)

Another creative and innovative effort is the album “Pasyon: An Oratorio based on the Philippine Lenten Chant.”

This makes use of excerpts from the 1703 and 1814 editions to come up with a classical-style oratorio to commemorate the passion and death of the Lord.  The text selections highlight the fact that the beauty of Tagalog poetry, even in the earlier-described quintilla format, lay not in rhyme or meter, but in the juxtaposition of either contradictory or complementary images.  This compare-and-contrast aesthetic is referred to as “talinghaga” even by modern-day Tagalogs.  In “Panalangin,” the first track on this album, we can try to identify what the “matalinghaga” aspects might be: 

O Diyos sa kalangitan 

hari ng sangkalupaan 
Diyos na walang kapantay 
mabait, lubhang maalam  
at puno ng karunungan, 

Ikaw ang amang tibobos 

nang nangungulilang lubos 
Amang di matapos-tapos 
maawai’t mapagkukop 
sa taong lupa’t alabok,

Iyong itulot sa amin 

Diyos Amang maawain 
mangyaring aming dalitin 
hirap, sakit at hilahil 
ng Anak mong ginigiliw. 

Some of the people behind this project were also involved in the “Langit” recording, so musically, the two albums are similar, as the above listening example shows.  The basic chants used are of the most common melodies still current today; the production notes credit the province of Bulacan as the field source for these.  On the other hand, the album also features an unusual traditional chant from Santo Tomas, Batangas, that starts of with a “Na na na na.”  In the track “Huling Hapunan”, we can find out how this works. 

Ay ano nga’y nalikmo na 

Si Jesus na Poong Ama 
Siya sampu ng kasama
Doon sa kakanan nila 
 At nagwika kapagdaka 

Obviously, this still doesn’t meet our requirements for self-edification.  Our last hope is “Krus at Muling Pagkabuhay” from Himig Heswita of the Jesuit Communications Foundation at the Ateneo de Manila University, published in 2003.   

 
This promisingly offers fourteen different “Pasyon Himig” (chant melodies), which the authors each characterize as possessing one of several possible qualities: “angkop sa karaniwang salaysay” (appropriate for normal narratives), “angkop sa bahagi ng salaysay na tigib ng hapis” (appropriate for sorrowful parts of the narrative), “angkop sa mga salita ng Panginoon” (appropriate to lines spoken by the Lord), and so on.

Interestingly, the texts used in this recording are not from the old traditional Pasyon texts, but are taken from the “Aklat ng Pagmimisa sa Roma,” or the Roman Missal in Tagalog, published in 1981.  This ensures that all its contents are liturgical and orthodox, rather than simply traditional or, worse, folksy.

It then becomes a simple matter of matching up the texts, which cover Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday, to the appropriate chant melodies, as to whether they are meant to be sad, happy, and so forth.

The first two of the fourteen chants are probably the most common, and should be familiar to just about any Holy Week church-goer in at least the Tagalog-speaking regions.  In fact, from my childhood listening experience, these two are always used together, with the first used for the odd-numbered Pasyon stanzas, and the second used for the even-numbered ones.  Here are the words of Himig 1 and Himig 2 here (even if they’re not arranged in the manner that I’ve just described):  

Himig 1 
Poong makapangyarihan 

Lumikha ng sanlibutan 
lupa’y iyong inilagay 
nang matatag at matibay 
sa tubig ng karagatan 

Himig 2

Kay Kristo, Haring Mesiyas
Sumalubong nang may galak
Taglay ang manga palaspas
Manga batang iyong anak 
Jerusalem na mapalad 

In my view, this is valuable not only because it offers the fourteen different Pasyon chant melodies as previously mentioned, but also because it comes fully documented with a book with complete liturgical texts beyond the ones included in the recording.  In fact, beyond the texts set to Pasyon chant, the album includes a “bonus track” at the end, a popular hymn frequently used in the Mass, “Pag-Ibig Mo, Ama.” 

Moreover, the book includes the printed musical notation so that your pianist or organist (or a musically-literate guitarist who can play from musical notes rather than guitar chords) can play the main melody so that the singers can follow, as well as improvise the chordal and bass accompaniment.

I would have, however, preferred to listen to a wider variety of voices, as all of the singers in this album seem to be young, male, and Atenean.  This is rather unlike the typical Pasyon singer, who would be older, female, and possibly a full-time homemaker in one of the Tagalog-speaking provinces around Manila.  I’m sure some small effort could have been expended to find other good singers who could have lent some authenticity to this recording.  

It would also have been better to make use of other accompanying instruments other than a synthesized piano – for example, a normal guitar, or a small electric organ, as this would probably be a more typical accompaniment as well.  Or why not even unaccompanied, but harmonized, vocal arrangements, in two, three, or four parts?  

My final beef with this recording is that, even with the ubiquitous Himig 1 and Himig 2, the recorded performances are not perfectly accurate – based on my hearing, they’re not the sung in the same way, meter- and beat-wise, as how they are sung even today in Bulacan.  And the harmonized accompaniment too is inferior to what is used and played in places like Malolos.  Not really being a trained musicologist, I can’t really explain it in precise musical terms, but one only needs to visit Barasoain Church on Holy Thursday or Good Friday and compare how the choir and congregation sing these two melodies versus the recorded versions here.

Overall, though, this is a worthy effort and fills a huge gap in our knowledge and understanding of this most important form of Philippine religious music.  But we still want to listen to an authentic field recording that documents an actual Pasyon “performance.”  It doesn’t have to be the whole eighteen- to twenty-hour saga of the entire Pasyon book, and video is a nice bonus but is not an essential.  Hopefully, some day, one such recording will turn up, and it will be a good one too. 

Originally published on 18 March 2007.  Text copyright ©2007 by Leo D Cloma. The moral right of Leo D Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted. Musical examples are owned by their respective copyright holders and are used only for review and demonstration purposes. 

Original comments:

illuminati1 wrote on Jul 19, '07 thanks for the download and lyrics

tandang1 wrote on Feb 1, '08 can u tell me where I can get a downloadable copy of the words of Tagalog Mass please? You can contact me at kevin@padrepio.org.au

rally65 wrote on Feb 12, '08 Sorry, I don't actually know where the Tagalog mass text may be downloaded from. I suggest that you try doing an internet search.

ivanrondelsalditos wrote on Mar 7, '08 can i have the chords? for himig 1 and himig 2? please?

ivanrondelsalditos wrote on Mar 7, '08 salamat

rally65 wrote on Mar 8, '08 The music for the pasyon himig examples is given in the book. Please try to get the book and look for the chords in there.

pabasa2011 wrote on Apr 15, '09 For the benefit of the Filipino children born outside the Philippines do you think it's possible to have the pasyong mahal translated in English? The tradition is brought over here in California (at least) and it will make more sense and perhaps draw their interest (even other nationalities') if they could at least "pray" or "sing-along" with it. Thanks.

rally65 wrote on Apr 15, '09 That's certainly a good idea. I just don't know who might be capable of undertaking this initiative (translating musical lyrics from one language to another while retaining "sing-ability" is always a challenge). Hope someone steps forward.

XXVII. Cantat Bis Orat, Part Three – King David’s Songbook with the World’s Two Best Choirs

“To sing is to pray twice” wasn’t lost at all on the ancients – it is sometimes easy to forget that the Old Testament has a fair number of examples of musical material, from the obviously-titled Song of Solomon (also called the Song of Songs) to the Lamentations of Jeremiah (better sung than wailed).   Our clear modern-day favorites are the Psalms. The ancient Greek word meant “songs sung to a harp,” but harpists were not always readily available throughout the past three-odd millennia, so since two thousand years ago, “psalms” simply became synonymous with “songs.”

Traditionally, the Psalms are attributed to King David (of David and Goliath fame), who is said to have based his song-writing output on the works of earlier “psalmists” including Adam and Moses.  Since we don’t have any of Adam’s or Moses’ songs on-hand, it is difficult to say just how closely David copied his forebears’ styles.  Which is just as well, I suppose. 

In reality, even though about half of the one hundred and fifty numbered Psalms include David’s name, they are all most likely the work of several authors, or groups of authors.  Since they weren’t formally written down in Hebrew until nearly half a millennium after King David reigned, they must have relied on recited and / or sung transmission of any materials actually originating from David.

Psalms have always been in use for worship throughout Christian history.  The Holy Mass always includes a Responsorial Psalm, which is nothing but a rearrangement of the Psalm texts into verses with an antiphonal response from the congregation.  This is often sung, though you’d be lucky to have a good cantor to sing the verses and a good song leader to teach the congregation how to sing the response properly.   

There are also many musical arrangements of the Psalms, in English, Pilipino, or other Philippine languages, in current use throughout the Philippines.  Of course, these are not appropriate to be sung in place of the prescribed Responsorial Psalm for the day’s Mass, unless the texts actually refer to the same Psalm.  We’ve also already heard a Taizé example of a setting of Psalm 34, “Qui regarde vers dieu resplendira” (Look to God and you will shine), and in fact there are numerous other Psalm settings in the extensive Taizé repertoire.

We now look at a sampling of different Psalm settings, from other musical traditions, starting with “Anglican Chant.”  This refers to the practice in the Church of England (i.e., the church originally established by Henry VIII to break-away from the Roman Catholic Church) of chanting the Psalms to English texts, using a simple harmonized melody in seven, fourteen, twenty-one, or twenty-eight bars.  The precise melodies and harmonies evolved from the 16^th century onwards, but were probably pretty much established by the 18^th century, and were fully developed in the Victorian era, with chant settings authored by distinguished English composers in the 19^th century, as we’re about to hear.

First is a setting of Psalm 84, “O how amiable are thy dwellings” with a chant composed by Sir Hubert Parry (1848-1918).  This is from the album “The Sound of King’s,” (EMI CDZ 7 62852 2) an anthology of choral works performed by what many say is the world’s best choir, the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge. 

Here is a recent photograph of the choir in their home chapel in King’s College, a famous structure with acoustics that make them sound even better than they already do to begin with. 

In their rendition of Psalm 84, which dates from 1969, they were led by their then Director of Music, the venerable Sir David Willcocks, who retired in 1974, but is still an active musician to this day.

The choir recorded all one hundred fifty Psalms in Anglican Chant during Mr. Willcocks’ tenure there, with him usually playing the small accompanying pipe organ. This allowed the choir to demonstrate various variations of Anglican chant – including where verses are sung alternately by the higher voices (boy sopranos and male altos) and by the lower voices (tenors and basses), or by half of the choir (half of the sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses), and then by the other half. 

As a matter of fact, choirs in Anglican churches are usually positioned into two halves straddling the nave of the chapel or church, with the halves referred to as “cantori” (the half positioned on the cantor’s side) and “decani” (the half positioned on the dean’s side). So depending on the chant arrangement used, one could achieve a “stereophonic” effect with volume increasing or decreasing, and shifting from left to right to center. I recommend listening to their recording of Psalm 84 again and try to see what dynamics were used by the King’s College Choir with Parry’s chant arrangement.

After Mr. Willcocks retired, he was succeeded as Director of Music by Sir Philip Ledger, who also made many recordings with the choir. 

In 1978, they recorded “Choral Evensong for Ascension Day,” (EMI DCM 5 65102 2) a recording of the service for that feast day. The program included a setting of Psalm 24, “The Earth is the Lord’s,” with a chant composed by Sir Joseph Barnby (1838-1896).

From these two tracks, one may observe that despite the gap of nearly a decade and the leadership of two different conductors, the choir’s sound has not changed at all. It is indeed paradoxical that despite the fact that the choir’s membership constantly changes – the boys’ voices break and therefore trebles usually stay in the choir for no more than three years, and the choral scholars leave the choir after graduation from the university – the choir sounds exactly the same from year to year. Just another example of how a religious musical tradition is transmitted through the ages – perhaps directly, in a manner of speaking, from old King David himself!

The current Director of Music at King’s College, Cambridge is Stephen Cleobury, who succeeded Mr. Ledger in 1982. 

He too has recorded prolifically with the choir. In the album “The Sound of King’s” cited earlier, there is a recording of “Miserere mei, Deus” (Have mercy on me, O God), made in 1984, not long after Mr. Cleobury took over.  This piece is a setting of Psalm 51 composed by Gregorio Allegri (1582-1652), priest, composer, and member of the Sistine Chapel Choir in Rome. 

(A 1987 version of the piece conducted by Stephen Cleobury by the King's College Cambridge)

(Another version of the piece)

The well-known story about this piece is that to preserve its exclusivity, the church forbade copies from being published. That changed when the fourteen-year-old Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, visiting Rome in 1770, heard it performed, and transcribed it from memory.  It is not difficult to hear why the choir would have wanted to keep the work to themselves, or why the young Mozart would have wanted to write it down after hearing it – the choral arrangement is both sublime and striking, perfectly suited to a musical work of repentance and penance. It being the Lenten season now, this work, usually performed on Ash Wednesday, is an entirely appropriate musical reflection for us at this time.

Psalm 51, “Miserere mei, Deus”

Miserere mei, Deus,

secundum magnam misericordiam tuam;

et secundum multitudinem miserationum tuarum,

dele iniquitatem meam.

Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea,

et a peccato meo munda me.

Have mercy on me, God,

in accordance with your great mercy;

and in accordance with the greatness of your pity,

destroy my wrong-doing.

Furthermore, wash me of my wrong-doing,

and cleanse me of my sin.

In reality, this is an abridged version from the original recording, and includes only verses (stanzas) 1 to 4 and 17 to 20.  There are several famous recordings of this venerable work truly worth dipping into, with perhaps one of the first all-time classical lollipops being a recording made, in an excellent English translation, by the Choir of King’s College, Cambridge also, way back in March 1963. The soloist who hits all those other-worldly high C’s was a boy treble in the choir named Roy Goodman, who has since had an outstanding performing and recording career as a violinist, keyboardist, and opera and orchestral conductor. Try to look for this original recording, now reissued on a CD album titled Allegri: Miserere (Decca 466 373-2).

If you want to listen to Allegri: Miserere in the original Latin, the best recording that I have listened to is the one by what I think is the best choir in the world (despite what the King’s College Choir fans might say) – the Choir of Westminster Cathedral in London. This is the major Roman Catholic Cathedral in the UK, so I’m probably biased on at least two counts: (1) I’m a Roman Catholic, and (2) I’ve actually attended Sunday High Mass in the Cathedral with the choir on hand on a few occasions. But I’m not the only one who thinks they’re outstanding – they are among the most awarded choirs in the world, with Gramophone Awards received for some of their recordings, and they continue to sell plenty of CDs of their recordings, of which they make frequently.

(a recent recording of the piece from the Choir of Westminster)

Credit must likewise go to the choir’s Master of Music, James O’Donnell, who joins a distinguished roster of choir directors since the Cathedral was founded about (only!) a hundred years ago.

Interestingly, Stephen Cleobury was Master of Music at Westminster Cathedral prior to moving to King’s College, Cambridge. And in 2000, Mr. O’Donnell was “pirated” by nearby Westminster Abbey (an Anglican church), to be succeeded by a former student, Martin Baker, who now leads the choir in its daily sung Masses and Vespers, probably unique in the Roman Catholic world.

Again, their Allegri: Miserere lasts nearly twelve minutes.  I do strongly recommend the album that it comes from: Masterpieces of Sacred Polyphony; Westminster Cathedral Choir, directed by James O’Donnell. This was recorded in 1995 and is published as Hyperion Records CDA 66850. 

The last track in that album is a six-voice choral setting of Psalm 97, “Cantate Domino,” composed by the late renaissance-to-early baroque composed Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643).

Cantate Domino canticum novum,

cantata et benedicite nomini ejus,

quia mirabilia fecit.

Cantate et exultate et psallite,

psallite in cithara et voce psalmi,

quia mirabilia fecit.

Sing to the Lord a new song,

sing and bless his name,

for he has done marvelous things.

Sing and rejoice and sing praise,

sing praise with the lute and with the sound of a hymn,

for he has done marvelous things.

This joyous setting, perfectly matched to this very popular Psalm’s message, is most exuberantly delivered by Mr. O’Donnell’s full-throated boys (sopranos and altos) and men (countertenors, tenors, and basses) in the expansive acoustic of the Cathedral. To my ears, this piece is a short (two-and-a-half minute) but solid demonstration of why this is the best choir in the world.

Have another listen and see if you don’t agree that they make old King David proud. And the Lord Himself as well, no doubt.

Originally published on 18 March 2007.  Text copyright ©2007 by Leo D Cloma. The moral right of Leo D Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted. Musical examples are owned by their respective copyright holders and are used only for review and demonstration purposes.

XXVI. Rare Opportunity: Unique Architecture and History for Sale! (The Casa Tribunal in Malolos, Bulacan)

We take a break from the music momentarily and resume our akyat-bahay visits. In fact, we’re still in Malolos, still in the Santo Niño neighborhood, just a block away from the 1877 Bautista House, on the main Pariancillo road connecting Malolos with the next town, Paombong.

This is our target structure:

Before you think that I’ve gone completely bonkers from visiting old houses and have led you to some strange-looking bodega, I’ll have you know that this is a historic Malolos structure, from the early to middle part of the 19^th century. Take a look at this photo:

This old photograph, from the Nicanor G. Tiongson collection and published in his book “The Women of Malolos,” clearly shows how this structure looked like a little more than a hundred years ago. Dr. Tiongson states that after Malolos was divided into three towns (Malolos, Barasoain, and Santa Isabel) in 1859, this building became the Malolos casa tribunal (essentially, the municipal hall).

In his book, Dr. Tiongson adds that the building “witnessed the stormy municipal elections of the 1880’s and 1890’s.” When the Philippine Revolution broke out in 1898, it housed the Gobierno Militar de la Plaza. And in the early 1900’s, still according to Dr. Tiongson, it housed the pro-American Philippine Constabulary.

Here is another photo from the Tiongson collection, where it is clearly identifiable as the tile-roofed structure at the far end of the road.

This one, from the Jonathan Best collection and also featured in Dr. Tiongson’s book, shows it in profile at the right-side background:

Other details of this structure’s history are vague. The property is now part of the estate of the Adriano Family, one of the town’s oldest and wealthiest families, whose grand mansion sits diagonally across the road from this and has since been restored and turned into the Meralco Malolos branch office. (Definitely a future akyat-bahay visit target.)

A mixture of conventional wisdom and conjecture indicates that this was originally a residential structure, built in a vaguely mainland Spanish style by the Adriano family in the early- to mid-19^th century. When the new Malolos municipality was established in 1859, the family probably generously lent the structure to the new government, as anyway they had other residential properties available nearby. Such a “usufruct” arrangement continued through various changes of governments, until early in the 20^th century, when possession must have reverted to the Adrianos. (The present-day Malolos municipio, just a few meters away from this old Casa Tribunal, and directly in front of the Cathedral, dates from 1940.)

More recent history tells us that this building was used for more commercial purposes – as recently as three years ago, it was the bodega and retail outlet of a wholesaler-distributor of salty snacks, candies, and sweets. This would easily explain why the large windows on both storeys have been bricked up (with the strange exception of the one on the extreme right-side on the ground floor) – we don’t want grubby fingers reaching through and taking some of that delicious junk food. In reality, though, the closing-up of the windows happened a long time ago – I have been a Malolos resident since birth, and I’ve never seen this structure with un-bricked-up windows ever.

But I’ve always been curious as to what it really was, and what it looked like inside. The opportunity came up recently, when the owners, who are trying to sell it, offered to show me in. So we open the main gate at the left side of the structure, still in the same place as it was a hundred years ago, but much altered.

The right-side courtyard, previously an open space with a small garden, has since been roofed in. Here’s how it looks today:

That doorway left-of-center is the structure’s main door. (That is, discounting the original main door that was right smack in the middle of the façade, long since bricked up as well.) We move closer, and see not only an unbricked-up window, but enough orbs to make ghost-hunters giddy with delight.

I especially like that big one near the window’s top right edge, and the gold-colored one near the center of the shot. Another shot just seconds later confirms the presence of plenty of orbs, though my two favourites seem to be a bit shy and have disappeared.

(What do these orbs, captured by digital photography but invisible to the naked eye, really mean? You can look it up on the internet, and you will find a frequent assertion that these represent “energy” – to cut a long convoluted pseudo-scientific explanation short, most likely the spirits of dead people. What do I think? I don’t really know what to think, and I really almost don’t care – as long as they don’t bother me [so far they haven’t], I won’t bother them, and we’ll get along just fine. Haha.)

Anyway, we go through the main entrance, and see what’s inside. What’s inside is immense darkness, such that I couldn’t see the palm of my hand even if I held it directly in front of my eyes. Nonetheless, I keep taking photos, and I took this one of a doorway directly in front of the main entrance, presumably leading to the main hall on the ground floor. (A few orbs here as well, including a small bright one above.)

The one street-facing window that hasn’t been bricked up, as we saw in the exterior shot earlier, is also seen at the far end in these interior shots:

What was obviously a two-storey structure had since been raided for its second-storey floorboards such that only the framing beams remain.

A shot towards the rear of the structure reveals a small upstairs window, now visible through the second-storey framing where the floorboards used to be.

The ground floor areas towards the rear are in an equally forlorn condition.

And apparently those orbs are a truly messy lot.

That’s all there is inside, really. All those years of being used as a bodega have eviscerated it, such that not only can we not tell if it might have originally functioned as a residence, but also can we not see how it might have been used as a municipio. All I could see (or not) was how it was used as a commercial warehouse. And, really, would you knowingly eat any snacks that were stored in this place?

  

But as a structure, historical or not, this place is truly unique. Hardly anywhere else, especially in Malolos, or even in Bulacan, can one find a full, unadulterated bahay na bato – both first and second storeys are in stone, likely of Bulacan adobe. (Sure, the second-storey floorboards were of wood, but that’s just appropriate for a living space, I guess.) And those pot-bellied second-floor windows with stone awnings above and metal grills around – exceedingly rare if not unique in these isles. One would have to look perhaps halfway around the world for anything similar of the same period.

Could this be turned back into a gracious residence? I think so – one would only need to open up the bricked-up windows, remove the roof over the side courtyard, reinstall the necessary wooden floor for the second storey, and build a proper staircase going upstairs (if one could conjecture where the original might have been positioned). For a bit more privacy, the original main door in the center of the façade could be opened up as a window instead, and the main entrance left as it is today, connected to the right-side courtyard. The roof could also be restored to terracotta tile, as it was originally. These restoration tasks are not really as formidable as they might sound, and could be accomplished systematically by a competent architectural and construction team.

The real issue would be, would it be comfortable to use as a residence? Here things get a little dicey, as this structure is on the main Pariancillo road, a busy jeepney and tricycle passageway between Malolos and Paombong. In fact, this next shot, from the other side of the structure looking towards Malolos, is a rare one where the road is surprisingly clear of any such conveyances, except for that tricycle many seconds away.

Contrast that to how the road from nearly the same angle looked a hundred years ago (in a photo grabbed from elsewhere on the net) – it was a virtual pedestrian zone.

The neighborhood has also become rather commercial, as its left-side neighbor, for example, is no longer a bahay kubo as it was a century ago, but is now a series of commercial spaces. This would probably make it a bit strange to open up the left-side balconied window and allow the world to enter your second-floor living room.

But this can’t just be demolished to make way for a new commercial structure – apart from its obvious architectural value, it is simply too historical to be written off. I believe that a good “reuse” strategy for this facility is called for. Perhaps as a set of offices (lawyers? insurance agents? bond salesmen? make-up ladies?). Or the headquarters or Malolos branch office of some cultural or civic or charitable non-governmental organization. Any other suggestions?

Then maybe even those orbs will decide to take a permanent hiatus.

Originally published on 11 March 2007.  All text and photos (except as otherwise indicated) copyright ©2007 by Leo D Cloma. The moral right of Leo D Cloma to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted.

Original comments:

puyat1981 wrote on Mar 12, '07 wow! you really are into this...conservation work and advocacy is great - is so cool!

overtureph wrote on Mar 15, '07 I agree it's a unique structure, even the styling. In my opinion, it looks Spanish-Mexican. Such a waste that it deteriorated to what it is today. It would be nice to be restored as a library, art gallery or even a restaurant.

rally65 wrote on Mar 15, '07 Why not come over and acquire it and open a library - art gallery - restaurant in it? We'll patronize it at least once a week!

arcastro57 wrote on Mar 15, '07 I see so many possibilities in this structure. Any takers yet?

rally65 wrote on Mar 15, '07 No takers so far -- it's already been on the market for a number of years. Take it!

overtureph wrote on Mar 15, '07 I don't have the funds for such an endeavor. I hope the heritage structure finds a benefactor soon.

ivanhenares wrote on Mar 17, '07 Hi Leo, why not get in touch with Dir. Ting de los Reyes of the DOT. He's among the stalwarts of the heritage group of Bulacan (I think it's called Pamana if I'm not mistaken)

rally65 wrote on Mar 18, '07 Thanks, Ivan. But what could Dr. de los Reyes do? I'm sure that he already knows anyway that this structure is for sale. Would he buy it himself?

ivanhenares wrote on Mar 19, '07 He could ask the governor to buy it.

rally65 wrote on Mar 19, '07 Hmmm....will see whom I can speak to around here.

qwertyuiop67 wrote on Apr 28, '07 Hello, you don't know me, but I came upon your blog by chance and I think it's one of the more interesting ones on Multiply. I happen to like old houses too, and I think it's unfortunate that they walled up the little balcony-like windows of this structure and plastered the facade with cement. I'm partial to stone houses that show the patina of age. =)

rally65 wrote on Apr 29, '07 Thanks for dropping by, Joan! If you like old houses, you've come to the right place. Do keep checking regularly -- I have many more (years' worth of) articles on old houses and other interesting stuff locked up in my head, just waiting to be released. ;-)

qwertyuiop67 wrote on May 3, '07 I was thinking that perhaps, when you've accumulated enough stuff, you could compile everything into a coffee-table book. I like how you use architectural terms and historical information in your descriptions --- makes your blog not only entertaining, but educational as well. =)

rally65 wrote on May 4, '07 Hi, Joan. That is the long-term objective, honestly. (Not sure though about the "coffee-table book" -- I don't take coffee. Ha ha.) In the meantime, I first have to develop more material. Now if I only had more time for this -- like many others, I simply have a full plate! Perhaps I need to re-orient my priorities. We'll see.

victorancheta wrote on May 6, '07 Here's a much clearer pic Leo. How much are they asking for it? It's in a prime location.

rally65 wrote on May 6, '07 The seller told me, "Just make us an offer." Why not go ahead, Victor?

rally65 wrote on May 6, '07 As Alex said, many possible uses for this structure can be imagined. I can think of at least a couple of feasible ones. But first I have to find a house for my family somewhere there.

johnada wrote on May 7, '07 The old municipal hall of Barili, Cebu is now a private home. I was disoriented when I went to the town because it looked a bit different. I asked my classmates what happened to the town and they enlightened me. It really is an imposing "house" in a provincial town.

rizalunderground wrote on Sep 17, '07 Orbs here and there...Hmmm... Paranormal? Looks creepy...The big spiral one is interesting....

larkjein wrote on Nov 6, '08 Hi! I used to live just down the street from this place, when I was a kid I called it "haunted kulungan" now I know why after seeing those orbs hehehe. I remember back in 1996-1997 I used to buy junk food (chippy, clover, cheese curls) from this place when they used it as a wholesale bodega for junk foods. If I win the lottery I would definitely buy the property :)

rally65 wrote on Nov 7, '08 larkjein said "I used to live just down the street from this place, when I was a kid" Where exactly did you live? Another ancestral structure?

rudyescoto wrote on Apr 10, '10, edited on Apr 10, '10 great...is it still there?

rally65 wrote on Oct 6, '10 Yes, it is.