The Ghost in University of the Philippines
The University of the Philippines (also known as
UP) is one of the most famous college university in the Philippines - home of the law-makers and presidents of the country. However behind its good name to the public, many secrets was hiding on the buildings and every where the campus. Thus, many stories circulated about ghosts and supernatural beings still roaming in the deserted places. Actually, because of that reason it gives way to urban legends.
[Taken from the Article by Catherine Grace de Leon, reprinted from the Philippine Daily Inquirer, 03/28/09:]
I once asked a friend why most people feared ghosts more than werewolves, aswang, duendes, aliens and monsters.
“Well,” he answered. “It’s because they’re supposed to be dead.”
The UP College of Music at the Abelardo Hall has a curfew. At 8 in the evening, the bell will ring and all who are still inside must exit the building before the guard locks it down. This was not always so. Years ago, people could stay in as long as they wanted. You see, we Music majors are addicted to practice. We’d pound away on our instruments until 3 in the morning if we could. So understandably, many of us were disgruntled when the 8 p.m. rule was first imposed.
Several weeks ago, we were talking to one of our professors, also a Music alumna, expressing envy at how, during her time, she could stay in the college and practice to her heart’s content way into the night.
“You’re right, we didn’t have an official curfew then,” she replied. “Instead, we had what we called a natural curfew. Once you start to hear someone playing, singing or dancing along to your solitary music…Ay! Umuwi ka na!”
And even until now, many janitors claim that sometimes they hear passionate piano playing in one of the classrooms, but when they got to check it out, they find no one there.
They also say that in the gamelan room, the biggest gong in the ensemble (gong ageng) vibrates by itself at 12 midnight. And it must be true because every gamelan set is believed to have its own identity and to be inhabited by spirits whom you must not offend—which is why you must treat the instruments with care and never step over them, or you will never have children of your own.
Several piano professors also claim that there’s a little girl who wanders around the second floor of the annex building at night, especially if you’re the only one left practicing in the premises.
It was late at night when a man waved his hand at the driver and got on the jeep. The driver wondered why the man chose to stand on the edge and cling on to the rails, and asked him why he wouldn’t just take a seat. Just as the man was about to answer that the vehicle was full of passengers, he realized it was actually empty.