When words falter and sorrow becomes too heavy to bear, Ilocanos turn to dung-aw, a chant for the dead, a lament woven with memory, love, and longing.
The chant, performed during wakes and funerals, carries grief on the wind since through its verses, the dead are not merely mourned – they are spoken to, remembered, and kept alive in the hearts and minds of the bereaved.
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A 1999 study by Flordeliza Pineda and published in the repository of De La Salle University stated that dung-aw, an expression of sorrow, is often done by elderly women.
The study, which is a collection and analysis of dung-aw in seven selected towns of Ilocos Norte, said the practice ‘does not restrict itself to qualifications as long as one wails and observes the functions of dung-aw.’
These functions, it said, are to (1) announce death; (2) serve as an emotional outlet; (3) act as a coping mechanism for those who are in grief and pain; (4) celebrate the life of the dead; and (5) ask forgiveness.
Dung-aw can as well serve as advice for the listeners or a way for the chanter to seek help for problems and advice for major decisions in life.
While the practice is chanted most of the time in wakes and funerals, it can also be performed on the ninth day, the 40th day, and the death anniversaries of the departed, or even when the bereaved ends the grieving period through the babang-luksa.
No script
The chanter, either a relative or a friend, does not have a prepared ‘script’ for the dung-aw, as it is based on personal experiences with the deceased – his or her life and how he or she had impacted the lives of others.
A lament that bridges the world of the living and the dead, the dung-aw is not a simple sound, but a soul – an offering of words and wails that carry love, regret, and memory to the other side.
For instance, in Isabela, a grieving woman lamented the death of her younger brother, saying this with rhythm: ‘Ay, awanen aya ni ading kon. Ay [.] awanen daytay bagbagaan mi iti nagan na [.] ta pumanaw metten.’
She expressed sorrow over the reality that she has to confront-that her brother, whom she calls by his nickname, is now gone and that they would no longer be able to call him once more.
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But sometimes, if not often, the dung-aw is heavier, with the chanter crying out loud while expressing regrets over the loss, like a mother grieving the sudden death of her son.
‘Ay, apay ta damdamagen na no kayak ti agmaymaysa. Apay ngata kunak. Diak man lang pinanpanunot, anakko, no apay ta sangkaradamag mo,’ said the bereaved parent.
It was an expression of intense grief, reminiscing how she has been ‘repeatedly asked’ by her son if she, who is already a widow, can already live alone, stressing that she never thought that her son was already saying goodbye.
Down from the elderly
Passed down through generations, the dung-aw is characterized by verses that are composed on the spot, sometimes listing down the virtues of the dead or recalling moments of kindness.
This, aside from lamentations over ‘what could have been.’
While the exact origin of the practice is not yet known, the dung-aw has not only served as an emotional outlet as it has been regarded as a way for the listeners to know the dead better even if he or she is already gone.
‘The chanter covers her face with a manto (black veil) and coils herself like a snake while chanting,’ Pineda stated in her study, which pointed out that the dung-aw and the chanter have always been regarded with respect.
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‘Creating noise is definitely not allowed while chanting is going on,’ she said.
‘Talking is only allowed if necessary but it should not attract the attention of the chanter and the audience. Even children are warned to behave and show respect for the man-dung-aw (chanter) and the dead alike,’ Pineda stressed.
Indeed, with dung-aw, grief is sacred, reminding those who listen that to mourn is not weakness, but an act of profound love. In the trembling voice of the dung-aw, the living and the dead meet once more, even for only a while.