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| Dusk begins early on November 1, the famous Sagada sunset neglected as locals light pyres for their dead. |
"It's hell on Earth," locals like to joke, my host's 12 year old nephew Osong among them. As early as finishing lunch, the Isagada head on to church, submitting the names of their deceased to a list, later to be read aloud before the Panag-apoy (to light a fire). The reading of names take hours, readers replacing one another, a calm, monotonous drone. People stack pinewood atop graves and may choose to light them early. 5pm: stray lines of smoke; 5:15pm: isolated bursts of flame; 5:30pm: the air turns grey, then black; 5:45pm: Inferno.
"It's a specific kind of Pine," says Blue, a man I met on the bus, and I can't remember if he said Saeng or Saleng, only that the sap catches flame easily. Back at home, we are told, "agtukkeltayo," set up [candles]. Nobody uses candles in Sagada for that, I am told.
At some point, the padi (priest) comes to bless the graves, after which the people put out the flames and return home for dinner, saying that the dead can join them if they wanted to.
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