THE HAUNTINGS

(A Paranormal Tale from Cebu)

by mimi illenberger mapa

All it took was one visit to the site for my husband and I to make up our minds. We were enchanted with this prime property that nestled in the slope of a hill so high up in the mountains you were almost walking on clouds. The rolling terrain, the sparkling blue lake at the foot of the hill and the seemingly endless carpet of green that surrounded the property was simply too much to resist. We knew this was the perfect place for our second home and so we immediately set out to buy the property.

Ancient trees and flowering shrubs lined the slope. The road to our property was the same one that led to governor’s mansion higher up on the plateau and it excited Carlos and me to think that we were in good company. We imagined our place to have been the site of an ancient mansion once upon a time. You see, scattered within a hectare’s radius were moss-covered bricks and stones, crumbling stone walls and the remnants of what was probably a magnificent staircase.

Remembering the romantic country inn where we stayed while on our honeymoon in Arizona, Carlos commissioned his architect brother to build us a similar vacation house inspired by a turn-of-the-century American Country Home model but with instructions to make use of the relics scattered within the area.

The construction of the house took a little less than two years to be finished and it was finally ready for occupancy that late December We therefore decided to have our housewarming and blessing coincide with the grand fiesta of El Senor Sto. Nino sometime in January of the following year.

Relatives and friends from Manila were invited to spend the weekend Ati-Atihan celebration with us. A few of Carlos’ poorer relations who lived within the area were also asked to spend a few days with us to help in the cooking and cleaning. There was so much to do and we wanted the affair to be perfect for all our guests, some of whom came all the way from Hawaii, Japan and Singapore.

The majestic house was so constructed that all the bedrooms upstairs looked down into the lovely garden below. It was almost midnight when my husband and I along with our “kitchen brigade” finally went to sleep. I was about to close an open window in our masters bedroom when I saw this strange scenario below. The sight gave me the shivers.

Soft classical music wafted towards us from somewhere in the darkness beyond. I knew both the sound system and garden lights were not yet working because the electrician had just advised Carlos all these would not be functional until the following afternoon. And yet, the grounds were aglow with a strange, mystical light that seemed to emanate from the recycled relics and ancient stone pieces.

Smiling men and women in period attire – mestizos and mestizas dressed up in costumes so unlike the general preference of Ati-Atihan merrymakers- were floating about in pairs, others were seated in stone benches sipping something from glittery crystals which sparkled like diamonds in the dark. It was very much like a happy tableau from some silent movie.

Frightened by the spectral sight, I rushed to the next room where my husband was companionably giving last minute instructions to his relatives. I beckoned the group to slowly approach the curtained windows and take a peek. Carlos, Tiya Vising and two other cousins were stunned by the eerie spectacle they saw just a few feet below our bedroom.

“ They are all disembodied spirits celebrating something,” Tiya Vising whispered as she and the others slowly tiptoed away from the room, closing the heavy narra door behind them. I noticed the old lady was trembling.

“ Let us all recite the special prayers for the dead and don’t anyone leave this room until the last stroke of midnight,” she warned, as everybody huddled in our large bed. “ Those preternatural spirits maybe malevolent.”

After what seemed like an eternity of suspenseful waiting, we heard the last boom of the grandfather clock from the reception hall below. We tiptoed back to the window and peeped out. The mysterious glow was now softly fading as the ghostly figures had began departing in pairs from the enchanted garden – shifting shapes that seemed to follow a marked trail of incandescence that pointed towards a star-filled sky.

After making sure the ghostly intruders were gone, our shaken group went down to investigate. We came up with a conclusion – that the site of the new house was the same spot where an ancient mansion had stood long ago; that the old rocks and bricks which my brother-in-law had used to adorn the beautiful landscaping must have acted as "magnets" for the ghosts.

Father Rafael, the priest who had come to bless our house was not surprised with our story.. He agreed that after all the guests had gone home, he would return to say special prayers for the dead and conduct a simple exorcism rite. He also promised to tell us the story behind the hauntings. Father Raphael assured us there was nothing to fear, that those apparitions we saw were the spirits of people who had frequented the area when the place was still a beehive of genteel activity; that the spirits were happy and grateful we had brought back life and gracious living to Villa Las Palmas.

THE HAUNTINGS OF VILLA LAS PALMAS :

Don Claudio and Dona Nena were a wealthy, childless couple from Barcelona ,Spain who decided to invest in the Philippines. Apparently, Don Claudio had chosen the beautiful island province of Cebu to establish his business and to build his new home. The couple had fallen in love with Cebu's majestic mountain range, its serene, blue waters and its never-ending summer days.
The pious couple were devotees of the Santo Nino or the Christ Child.

A year after they moved into their beautiful estate, the Villa Las Palmas, their only child was conceived. He was born on the feast day of the Infant Jesus. In gratitude, his parents vowed to celebrate the feast day with a mass,do acts of charity and sponsor a lavish banquet for the towns people.And so it became a yearly tradition for the towns people to go to the mansion every fiesta. Nobody went home empty handed . Rich friends of the couple donated food and clothing to the destitute natives; others came with pledges to support certain community projects. Everybody in the area- rich and poor alike- came dressed up to the hilt. It was the towns most glittery event.

Their son was christened Maria Joselito Nino. The boy grew up to be loving and obedient ; an ideal son who was also God fearing and service oriented like his parents. And to the delight of Don Carlos and Dona Nene, Nino wanted to become a priest. Their joy, however, turned to grief when a year after he was ordained, his superiors sent him to join a mission in Peru. It broke their hearts but the devout parents accepted their son’s assignment with stoic silence.

Communication was difficult during those times. In a span of three years, all they got was three letters. The couple missed Nino terribly but they knew he was up and about doing God’s work and so, uncomplaining, they waited patiently for his return.

And then, the unexpected happened. The ailing Dona Nena, now seventy five years old, died in her sleep. Don Claudio, burdened by grief over the death of his wife and the absence of his son, followed her to the grave two months later.

Nino, now known as Padre Jose never came to know about his parent’s demise. Apparently the young priest had volunteered to go with a medical mission assigned to bring food and medical supplies in a remote village somewhere in the jungle of Peru. In that godforsaken place, Padre Jose and two other companions died barely a year later from an serious malady. It took 18 months for the news of his demise to reach the Philippines. By this time, his parents had long been dead.

With no apparent heirs, the once beautiful mansion fell into disrepair. It was looted and ransacked by thieves in the area. A pall of gloom and eerie silence descended over the once magnificent abode as weeds and lush vegetation turned the untended area into a veritable forest. When the conquering Japanese army commandeered the place in the early 40s, they found it to be snake and vermin infested. A breakout of Bubonic disease among its military occupants claimed so many lives forcing the retreating soldiers to torch the crumbling place to the ground.

The hauntings began soon after.The families living in the surrounding vicinity had different stories to tell about the abandoned property:

Two small boys lured into the “ forbidden area” by ripening fruit came across a young man seated on a fallen tree, engrossed in a book he was reading. He was a cheerful, good looking mestizo who readily welcomed them and even helped them pick the fruits they wanted. He told the young boys to come back for more anytime they wanted. It was a blistering, hot afternoon but he looked fresh as a daisy in his seminarian habit. After hearing their story, their elders concluded that it was the ghost of Padre Jose.
A group of teenagers had alighted from the carosa they were riding to pick the beautiful wild flowers that had grown so lushly in the area. It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon in the month of May and the wild flowers were perfect for the Flores de Mayo. A young man was playing the guitar and two others were singing as the girls harvested the most beautiful blooms.

They were about to leave when they espied this elderly couple, dressed in turn of the century attire smiling broadly and waving at them. The youngsters waved back happily only to be jolted into disbelief when the two were no longer by the roadside when they looked back from the moving carosa.

Stories about occasional ghostly sightings continued to make the rounds for many years and the story was always the same. The ghosts were friendly and always looked so real, so alive until they disappeared into thin air.