Ateneo’s Urban Legends

by , , on October 27, 2011

Photo by Tim Arafiles

Ever since Fr. William Materson, SJ relocated the campus to Loyola Heights sixty years ago, Ateneo has had quite a number of brushes with the supernatural. From a mysterious girl praying in the College Chapel to an old department building once handled by Spirit Questors, such urban legends have been continually passed on.

We talked to those who have personally witnessed these mysterious occurrences. Though some may consider these encounters as figments of the imagination, to others, it shows that the line between the paranormal and normal is closer than one might expect.

The Dormitory Residents
By Arianna Y. Lim

The dormitories in Ateneo have been around for more than four decades, so it is no surprise that Eliazo and Cervini are home to more than just student residents. Nevertheless, it is the janitors who have had firsthand experience of these hair-raising tales.  They say that once students have deserted the dormitories during the semester and summer breaks is when the eerie things start to occur.

Virgilio Panogadia, a janitor who has worked in the dormitories for 26 years, is convinced that the communal bathroom of Eliazo has a chilling presence. So chilling in fact, that, upon recalling his unusual experience in 1990, Virgilio subtly rubbed his arms to calm his goose bumps.

Years ago, there was a woman who had a room to herself in the Eliazo dorm. She was a fairly heavy smoker who would take frequent cigarette breaks to the extent that everyone knew about her habit. One semester vacation, she decided to take a trip with her boyfriend. In a series of unfortunate events, however, they were held up and shot dead.

One day, Virgilio was taking a shower in one of the stalls in the Eliazo bathroom, when he heard another shower turn on as the sound of gushing water filled the room. He found it strange since it was summer break and no one had occupied that floor. When he called out, no one answered him. Once he finished, he looked through the gaps beneath the stall dividers and saw that the rest of the room was empty. Then, all of a sudden, the bathroom filled with the scent of cigarette smoke.

The bathrooms, though, are not the only place in the dormitories where mysterious things have occurred; another famous story takes place in the Eliazo communal study room. One night, a student was pulling an all-nighter. While she was studying, she heard loud laughter abruptly shatter the silence, but thinking it was just another dormer, she ignored it. But when it happened the second time, she walked out to the lobby, where the sound was coming from. Upon entering, she found the room completely deserted.

For many student residents, the dorm is their second home—it becomes a sanctuary. But perhaps it is because of the warm hospitality that the supernatural spirits are so drawn to the place.

The Old Department of Communication
By Alexis M. Dy

Most of the current enrollees have never stepped foot in the old building of the Department of Communication, but they have certainly heard the stories that surround the two-storey structure on Seminary Road.

There are ones about small but nonetheless unsettling disturbances, like the motion-activated CCTV cameras switching on when no one is around, the sounds of clinking chains and typewriter keystrokes late at night, and small objects like keys disappearing and reappearing at a later time.

Other people talk about seeing a lady in white by the first floor restroom or a child and an old Jesuit on the second floor. Usually, the eerie feeling in the air is enough to give them away.

“I never saw anything,” Mark Escaler, an assistant professor at the department, says. “But honestly, it felt strange to work there late at night.”

Despite being unable to see these ghosts either, department chair Sev Sarmenta would take precautions anyway. “I used to say to the [Jesuit] in my room at the time, ‘Father, please do not disturb me. I am scared.’”

Longtime audio-visual technician Antonio “MT” Gallano recalls his own creepy experiences when he would stay after hours to help students edit. “Malalaman mo na parang meron kasi titindig yung balahibo mo eh—parang may hangin na dumadaan,” he says. “Natulog ako diyan minsan. Parang may nakatingin sa akin. Bumubukas yung pinto tapos sumasara. Tinulugan ko na lang!” (You would know that something was there because your hair would stand on end—like there’s a passing breeze. I sleep there sometimes. It was like someone was looking at me. The door would open and then close. I just sleep it off!”)

There are also whispers of a portal behind the screen in the studio, one that a group called the Spirit Questors opened in 1996 to put the spirits at ease but never got around to closing.

“Some of the stories are fascinating, but not all are true,” Sarmenta cautions.

Veracity aside, it isn’t hard to figure out why numerous stories continue to be passed on. As one of the oldest buildings on campus, it has seen its fair share of history—it used to be the kitchen of the American Jesuits and it once housed the Center for Educational Television and the Institute for Philippine Culture.

Many faculty members were saddened when it was time to move out in 2008. “It was home for a long, long time,” Escaler says.

“Country club ‘yun eh,” MT jokes, citing the old building’s proximity to Manang’s, the swimming pool and the tennis courts.

The feeling might be mutual for the building’s supernatural occupants, too. “The Questors said that the spirits stayed there because they liked the people in Comm,” Sarmenta says. “They were about to move to another plateau or something, but they didn’t want to leave because they were happy there.”

But, you never know, maybe they’ve followed the Comm majors to their new home in the Social Sciences Building.

The EDSA walk
By Justine N. Dinglasan

Hundreds of students rush through EDSA walk on a daily basis. However, even though it’s a common rendezvous for many Ateneans, little do they know about the creepy instances that often occur in it.

The mysterious toilet flush

As part of the maintenance staff for four years, female janitor Ate M has been assigned all around campus, particularly in girls’ bathrooms.  But out of all the bathrooms, she says that the girl’s bathroom in the second floor of Gonzaga stands out due to a recurring experience that remains unexplained.

One night, she was finishing her regular cleanup in that bathroom. It was quiet outside, as most students had already gone home. Eager to get home herself, she started tidying up the supply closet when she heard a toilet flush. She stopped and walked over to the last cubicle, the only one with its door still shut—the same cubicle she had just left open after cleaning.

“Baka may pumasok (maybe someone went inside),” Ate M said to herself. She walked over and knocked on the cubicle door, but it was unlocked and no one was there.

Since then, Ate M has had a similar experience several times.  She says that what’s odd is that it only happens between 3 to 6 PM, and the toilet flushes only come from the last cubicle.

Black-haired praying girl

Out of respect to visitors of the chapel, the chapel lights are never turned off unless it is completely empty. Kuya Alex, a janitor who has worked on campus for seven years, knows this protocol.

One night, certain that there was no one in the chapel, he switched off the lights. With more duties to carry out, Kuya Alex left the empty chapel. However, as he walked past it, he took one last glance. What he saw made him stop abruptly: a girl was praying inside.

Long, black hair cascaded down her shoulders. Her head was bent over so he could not see her face or anything below it. Assuming the girl had just entered, Kuya Alex decided he should switch the lights back on. But when he reached the chapel’s doors, she was gone—the pews were empty, just as how he had left them.

Alarmed about it, Kuya Alex shared what had happened with a co-worker. Apparently, it was not the first time the same figure has been seen in the chapel. She has been continuously appearing for years. She often appears when the sun is about to set in the exact same position, with her head bowed and black hair obscuring her face.

Ever since that afternoon, Kuya Alex prefers to leave the lights on for a little while longer.

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