by Edelito Mercene Jr.
Inside a small shack located at Barangay Janagdong in the town of Mogpog, Marinduque, empty paint cans and unfinished carved masks atop a table could be seen.
Wood chips and paint are scattered on the floor - both of which are remnants from a meticulously crafted morion (mask), the symbol of the century-old tradition of pagmomoryon (wearing masks) in the province.
A 62-year-old Marinduqueño and mask maker named Dick Malapote owns this tiny hut. The craftsman admitted mask-making is a difficult and tedious process, even if he has been carving and painting masks for more than 40 years.
Also known as Moryonan, this annual Holy Week event is a reenactment of the story of a centurion named Saint Longinus whose eyesight was restored after blood from the crucified Christ squirted on his eye.
Malapote starts receiving orders every November - four months before locals wearing Roman legionnaire dresses parade their colorful Centurion helmets and suits around the towns of Boac and Mogpog.
“For Marinduqueños, wearing masks and suits have been their methods of thanksgiving and penance,” Malapote said in Filipino.
In 1884 a sacristan from a church (now named San Isidro Labrador Parish) in Mogpog named Matandang Bentong would ring its bells at 10 o’clock and 12 noon on Good Fridays and then walk around town donning a mask, Filipino historian Renato S. Rastrollo in his book Traditional Craftmanship, said.
The tradition has fascinated the town folks of Mogpog since then.
Every year, spectators would gather in the streets of their respective towns to witness the reenactment of the passion of the Christ (Via Crusis). Also known as Morions, these mask-donning participants use scourges made from rough and thick ropes and whip three actors - including one portraying Jesus.
And so Malapote works day and night to finish all the orders, especially during the Lenten season when wearers need the masks. Last holy week season, he made more than 20.
A meticulous craft
Creating masks requires both creativity and skill. Malapote draws inspiration from old designs he remembers seeing on the streets of Mogpog during previous Moriones lenten rites from when he was a kid, he said.
He would collect light and soft lumbers called dapdap from his supplier upon receiving orders. Dapdaps are commonly found in the mountains of Barangay Lamesa of the same town and are bought for P120 each.
Using small hatchets, he then cuts the timbers into one-foot long blocks and trims them according to the customer’s face size and neck radius.
After that comes carving fine details on the masks, which Malapote said is the most challenging part of mask making; it usually takes him more than a week to cut holes for eyes, shape its nose, emulate wound cuts for customized masks, and refine other details such as chins and cheeks. He usually finishes carving one month before the Lenten season.
Malapote shines the masks using papel de liha (sandpaper), pours glaze over it for a smooth finish, and paints them multiple shades of black, white, red and brown.
Days before lent, additional mask accessories such as eyebrows and headgears are put in place.
Apart from the carved and painted faces, some Boac-made Galea (helmet) headgear which have sculptures of bears, wolves, and distorted faces sport crest holders usually made from horse hair and broom stands. Common colors of plumes are red, white and black.
To further emulate the supposed authoritative stature of a mask wearer most of the Boac-made masks have frowning faces, large eyes, prominent beards, and wrinkled foreheads.
However, the distinct Mogpog-made headgears or bulaklakan turbantes feature flowers made from pink, red, and blue Japanese papers. Mogpog-made masks also have smiling and friendly faces.
When all this is done, the finished product is a unique and customized mask that Malapote can sell for P6000 each.
But that’s not the only thing Malapote creates, he also carves wood and makes Morion suits. Among his works are armors with wide chests and defined abdominal muscles which resemble soldiers from the first-century Roman Imperial army.
A fading tradition
Despite the rich history behind the festival and the meticulous preparations for it, Malapote admitted that Moriones has changed over the years.
“Today, I don’t feel and see the spirit of this Lenten rite as it is highly commercialized,” Malapote said. “Before, you would only see mask wearers on Lenten season; but now, you would see them anytime in official visits, offices and government events.”
Mask wearers are often called to accompany guests and government officials during tubong, a local tradition of crowning visitors.
He added that Moriones today shies away from mourning and penitence - both of which are the supposed essence of the holy week.
“I feel dismayed whenever Moriones is politicized, as (this tradition) should be sacred and religious by nature,” Malapote said. “I don’t know if mask wearers still have this type of penance in their hearts.”
Though not a mask wearer himself, Malapote hopes he could pass his craft to his sons and nephews.
“I hope this could be passed but I also want them to learn new things aside from (mask making),” Malapote said.
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