Pangangaluluwa: An Unheard Filipino ‘Halloween’ Tradition

As the spook season draws near, the melody of a mysterious hymn fills the silence of the night.

In the Western world, many Halloween festivities are held during October. From pumpkin carving to flashing costume parties, nothing comes more iconic with the children’s favorite: trick-or-treating! However, did you know there is a similar ‘trick-or-treat’ activity here in the Philippines?

Well, not exactly.

In some parts of the countryside, the unremembered tradition of “Pangangaluluwa” can still be heard when Todos los Santos (or All Saints’ Day, celebrated every November 1st) approaches. It is a custom where groups of people go around a village to sing hymns in exchange for alms. However, due to the continuous influence of Western culture, this unique tradition is at risk of being completely forgotten.

As strange as it might be called, the name reflects the nature of this lesser-known practice. In line with the Filipino beliefs surrounding All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day during the 1st and 2nd of November, this custom is practiced in the days or weeks leading up to these holidays. It is a tradition rooted in the belief that the portal separating the realm of the living and the dead opens when Todos los Santos draws near. 

It is speculated to have originated in the 1700s, but its roots may be found in the pre-colonial practices of our ancestors. Before the Spanish colonization, our predecessors held high regard and worshipped the spirits of those who came before them. With the introduction of Christianity in the Philippines, this practice merged with the Catholic belief of spirits in purgatory seeking the help of the living through prayer. The fusion of these two beliefs resulted in the contemporary customs and practices surrounding the dead like pangangaluluwa.

The nangangaluluwas or those participating in the pangangaluluwa, pretend to be spirits of the dead who return to the realm of the living to collect alms. Then, they serenade households around their neighborhood with hymns about these returning spirits from purgatory. These hymns seem to revolve around the idea of spirits seeking the assistance of the living before they return to their realm.

Nevertheless, households give out sticky rice cakes like biko, suman, and halaya or coins to the nangangaluluwas. There are two interpretations about why they give out alms to the nangangaluluwas. Some might say that the nangangaluluwas will pray for your deceased loved ones in exchange for alms, while others believe that the rice cakes they give out will satiate the hunger of the prayer-deprived souls in purgatory.

Having said that, in other regions, nangangaluluwas exact retribution to households who refused to give them alms. This may come in the form of hiding their slippers or even stealing their chickens! Even our local traditions have a sprinkle of mischief in them.

Althougha bit mischievous, pangangaluluwa is undeniably a mark of our rich culture and beliefs. Unfortunately, this practice has since been declining in more urban areas of the region like Metro Manila. However, faint traces of this unheard tradition are still being practiced in provinces such as Batangas, Quezon, Cavite, Laguna, Rizal, and Nueva Ecija.

In the Batangueño villages at the foothills of Mt. Makiling, this practice has variations unique to each area–even among neighboring villages. It is typically children and teenagers who go around the neighborhood serenading different houses. They are usually rewarded with small amounts of money, but some households give out candies instead.

In our town, the Pangangaluluwa season begins when the calendar flips to October and when undas (or “undras” as it was called in our locality) approaches. This tradition is performed each night and culminates on October 31, when its last lines would be heard. 

The way the hymns are sung could be described and likened to the solemn and mystical Pabasa ng Pasyon during the Lenten season. However, pangangaluluwa hymns are sung in a more cheerful manner than the Pabasa ng Pasyon’s Tagulaylay tone which could be described as similar to someone grieving. Furthermore, my village presents a different version of the Pangangaluluwa lyrics and it goes like this:

Kaluluwa’y dumaratal,

Sa tapat ng durungawan.

Kampanilya’y tinatangtang,

Ginigising ang may bahay.

May bahay na natutulog,

Walang imik, walang kislot.

Kung kami po’y lilimusan,

Pakidalian po lamang,

At baka pagsarhan

Ng pinto ng kalangitan.

Tao po!

(Spirits arrive, in front of the window.

Toiling the bells, to wake the household.

The household sleeps, unspeaking, unmoving.

If you will give us alms, please do hurry,

Because heaven’s door might close.)

I, myself have participated in this yearly tradition as cousins and I would plan the route we would take to collect the largest amount of money possible. Then, we would bring out our kalembangs (also known as “kalansing” in Filipino) made out of soda caps which we had the year prior after the caroling season to accompany our “performance.”

Truth be told, pangangaluluwa is more akin to the other Pinoy custom of pangangaroling than the foreign trick-or-treat, as both involve people serenading households in exchange for rewards. I remember singing the lines “Thank you! Thank you! Ang babait ninyo. Thank you!” when the household we serenaded gave us some coins, just like what we would sing when we go caroling. 

In contrast to the practices of other areas, there isn’t much of a trick or retribution aspect in our variant of pangangaluwa. The most we could do to ungenerous households was to sing them a parodied version of the aforementioned line and call them barat or cheap. 

As I replay the melody of pangangaluluwa in my mind, I can’t help but be reminded of the simple joys of my childhood; an age of innocence, and mystery. However, as Western customs permeate my village, this tradition slowly fades to a mere memory of the past. In its absence, an eerie silence fills the air.

Nowadays, I seldom hear the melody of pangangaluluwa in my village. The youth’s interest seems to have shifted away from the practices I grew accustomed to. At present, they are now much more acquainted with the foreign Halloween activity of trick-or-treating than our very own pangangaluluwa. 

However, there have been some efforts to revive this dying tradition. In the town of Sariaya, Quezon, members of the local tourism council revived pangangaluluwa in 2005. In which, members of the ensemble dress up in ghoulish costumes that sometimes scare passers-by. 

In 2022, Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar, a heritage destination in Bagac, Bataan, joined in the revival efforts by having nangangaluluwas serenade their guests around their restaurants. This year, campus ministries like the Bedan Pastoral Ministry of San Beda University Manila, and choirs like Coro Migueleño from the Minor Basilica of St. Michael the Archangel Parish of Tayabas City, Quezon brought the spirit of pangangaluluwa to their communities and localities.

Despite all these efforts, reviving this dying custom proves to be a challenge. The tradition of pangangaluluwa is slowly disappearing even in rural villages. This season, which was once filled with the harmony of children serenading our neighborhood–now falls silent with the absence of the singing spirits of this world.

As Filipinos continue to embrace foreign customs, local traditions such as pangangaluluwa face the threat of being silenced and erased from our collective memories. Although we cannot stop foreign influence from entering our consciousness, we must not forget what we have before and at present. Until we hear the hymns of pangangaluluwa in our neighborhoods again, let us take a step to keep this rich and uniquely Filipino ‘Halloween’ practice alive.