Manila – Where Life and Death Share a Home (Part III: The North Cemetery)

Manila has many faces. Some are loud and glittering; others are quiet, hidden, waiting to be seen. But nowhere does the soul of this city feel more human, or more fragile, than in the North Cemetery, where the living and the dead share the same streets.

A city within the city

Behind the gates, you don’t just find tombs, you find homes. Families live here, some for generations, in small shacks built between marble crypts and cement walls. Laundry hangs from crosses, flowers bloom in plastic bottles, and the smell of rice cooking over charcoal drifts through the narrow paths.

Children play tag across gravestones. Mothers sweep the steps of mausoleums as if they were front porches. Men repair coffins or motorcycles, laughter mingling with birdsong and prayers.

It’s not morbid. It’s strangely alive. The North Cemetery isn’t only a place of mourning, it’s a testament to Manila’s resilience, to people who find life even in the shadow of death.

Moments that stay with you: A surreal visit

You cannot simply wander into the North Cemetery on your own, and you shouldn’t.It’s not a place to visit without guidance. Beyond the gates lies a maze of tombs, stories, and lives that outsiders rarely see, and safety depends on local knowledge and respect.

We were fortunate to go there under the guidance of a social worker, who introduced us to one of the families that have lived inside the cemetery for generations.

Walking there felt surreal. You move between gravestones, past statues of angels and cracked marble walls, and suddenly you step inside a mausoleum.

And instead of silence, you find life. A fan turning slowly in the heat. Children’s drawings taped to the wall. A bed tucked between coffins.

A family welcomes us warmly, calm, kind, and proud of the home they’ve built among the dead. They sleep where others come to mourn, and yet there’s no fear here. Only a quiet familiarity, as if the departed are neighbors who never truly left.

A city within the city

Inside the cemetery, boundaries dissolve. Laundry sways between crosses. A small stove smokes beside a tomb. Plastic flowers mingle with real ones, and pop music hums from a nearby radio.

It’s not eerie, it’s alive. The people who live here don’t see this as a place of endings, but of continuity. They’ve created community, warmth, even joy, where most would only see grief.

The quiet heart of Manila

The North Cemetery is both unsettling and profoundly human. It teaches you that life will always find a way, even here.

Manila reveals her truest self in these contrasts:not in perfection, but in persistence;not in comfort, but in connection.

As we left, I turned back one last time. A child was laughing, chasing a ball between tombs, a sound so full of light that it almost hurt.

And I thought: this is Manila.Messy, tender, unstoppable.Life, even here, always life.

➡️ Next in Part IV:Softness and strength, how in Manila, men move freely between masculine and feminine, and the city embraces them just as they are.