Commissioned by Staedelschule
Published in Latent Possibilities, Sonic Encounters and Sonic Thinking
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There are three stages to the sound of a gun. First, the click as the hammer cocks. Second, the flash as it ignites and expands in the barrel. Last, the sound of the bullet as it splits air into shockwaves.
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In 2016, my uncle was shot to death by unknown hitmen.
It happened on a Thursday, at the height of the sun, in broad daylight, at a gas station. He was fueling his Ford Everest 4x4 when two men riding a motorcycle arrived and attacked him with .45 calibre pistols. He died on the spot, reports say. Meanwhile, our immediate family was told the hitmen followed him and continued to shoot until he fell and died at a construction site.
He was a former mayor of a small municipality in North Cotabato, Philippines. Killed a couple of months away from Philippine elections in May, where he was contesting the re-election bid of her sister-in-law, the municipality’s incumbent mayor. This also happened years after being sent to provincial jail for being involved in a shootout with ethnic Iranun Muslim supporters of a rival politician. Some years before that, he and his family survived a grenade attack at their residence.
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There is a sound I will never hear:
the bang of the gun to my head.
the bang of the gun to my head.
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Cotabato is a place known for conflicts and confrontations between opposing parties. During the 15th century, there was a historical conflict between Spanish colonial forces and Muslim groups over territory and religious sovereignty. In 2008 there was a military confrontation between the Armed Forces of the Philippines and a rogue Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) faction under the command of Umbra Kato. These days, clashes between the Bangsamoro Islamic Freedom Fighters (BIFF) and government forces, are often linked to broader tensions in the region over issues such as autonomy and implementing peace agreements.
During election season, between the filing of certificates of candidacy and proclamation, sectarian conflicts and clan wars occur. Death and death threats are done via gunpoint, armed barrage, or carjack ambush.
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My semester breaks were spent in Cotabato. Every 3 years, a number of my relatives would run for local office. In their houses, they would have a gun by their bedside. In our house, our guns were hung in a secret closet by the door, a few under the bed, and some in the vault.
Growing up in that environment, I knew how cold a gun feels to touch, and how metallic a grenade licks to taste.
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The sound of a .45 calibre is 157.0 dB, it lasts 3-5 milliseconds, and propagates through the air at the speed of sound.
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Bang! Bang! Bang! It goes.
Pause.
The sound of actual guns ablaze, circling our house, was a familiar thing.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Gone.
The news of the killing of a person we know is the dessert on our table.
Pause.
The sound of actual guns ablaze, circling our house, was a familiar thing.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Gone.
The news of the killing of a person we know is the dessert on our table.
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Catholic Filipinos hold a wake that typically lasts three to five days. Sometimes, it lasts longer, so distant relatives have enough time to pay their final respects. During this time, the dead are usually placed in a casket, surrounded by funeral flowers.
Prayers are said out loud, often led by someone close to the family. Family members gather around, often wearing white with a black pin on their chest, and respond in chorus to the prayer leader. Afterwards, a person would grab the guitar and would sing the Dead’s favourite song. Everybody sings along.
I remember my uncle's wake, held in one of the rooms in one of the municipality’s office buildings. It happened shortly after his killing. We were instructed to be vigilant as we mourned and to keep an eye open during prayers. People would come and go, all with tears in their eyes; however, no cry was quiet.
There was a projector in the room for a slideshow of my uncle’s old photographs. Each photograph showed bravado, a sense of machismo that only a Filipino politician from Mindanao could have.
My uncle’s wife was erratic during this time. She would wail and shake, and her children would come to her and let her smell some sort of oil to calm her down. As if in a crying contest, my Lola would compete in this crying session. They would shout and kick and resist the consoling of their loved ones.
At the wake, days before my uncle’s funeral, I recorded my aunt’s wailing.
The recording was only 3 minutes and 48 seconds. It was a recording of violence and trauma as it permeates through and through.
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Jean-Luc Nancy, a modern French philosopher, emphasizes the bodily and existential dimensions of sound. Nancy’s work, especially his essay Listening (À l'écoute), provides a framework for understanding how sound impacts human perception and the embodiment of trauma.
Onomatopoeia is the formation of a word from a sound associated with its name. For example, the onomatopoeia of a gun's muzzled blast could be boom, pop, pew, crack. These onomatopoeic words attempt to capture the physical impact of a gunshot sound as it is experienced. Although they are not exact reproductions of the auditory event, they are shaped by how the sound feels and reverberates within the body and the environment.
Nancy’s philosophy helps us see onomatopoeic representations of gunfire as more than mere imitations of sound. They are linguistic echoes of embodied experiences, cultural interpretations, and shared traumas. While these words attempt to "capture" the sound, they also reveal the limitations of language in fully conveying the profound resonance and relational impact that sounds like gunshots have on human beings.
The sound of bang is known to me. It is a sound I grew up hearing as it echoed through the house I grew up in. It is a four-letter word embodiment of my fears.
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Bang! Bang! Again?
We turn the light off and we slowly move towards the bunker of our Lolo.
Bang!
Let us pray, my Lola says.
We turn the light off and we slowly move towards the bunker of our Lolo.
Bang!
Let us pray, my Lola says.
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I put a gun to my mouth and circled its muzzle with my tongue.✶