Of Jose Pidal and kidnappings circa 1865, and love in the air at old Intramuros
October 19, 2003 | 12:00am
Last Sunday, I had to put aside documents on, would you believe, Jose Pidal y Rubries who reported to the Commander Politico Militar of the Government of Bongao that a British ship had crossed over the waters of Sibuto, Tawi-Tawi searching for pirates who had attacked some areas in north Borneo. The Spaniards didn’t believe the Englishmen and deduced the British were abetting practical acts and supplying the Moro Samal and Tausug Datus with arms, gunpowder and knives again. That particular Atty. Santos should go to the Records Management Division of the Archives to find that a real Jose Pidal existed in 1865!
I likewise had a report by skipper Basilio Valdez (not the general of the American period who was the aide-de-camp of President Manuel Quezon) from his schooner No. 64 named Concepcion. He was referring to the kidnapping of Pablo Bautista in Capiz’s shorelines at 4 p.m. Yes, the Samals conducted their operations at any time and anywhere. But then, the natives reported the kidnap incidents to the authorities. By the way, that reference would be Capitaña del Puerto de Manila y Cavite 1865. Included in that bundle would be the report on a boat ferrying Bautista to a hideaway on the shores of Zamboanga. Now, many don’t dare report kidnappings to the officials and settle them "amicably." There’s even a Señor Casanova. How could I detach myself from so much comparison, parallelism and grief on what we have today with 19th century events?
Even if the bride and groom didn’t know me, I couldn’t say no to the wedding of Domingo Bernardo Jr. and Leslie Ellen, the children of my friend Domingo Sr. and Judith and Domingo and Shirley Chua respectively. So I dropped my studies to witness the yin and yang become one. Yin is the female, negative principle while yang is the positive principle. Often called the Law of the Unity of the Opposites, the yin and yang cannot exist without the other. The yin and yang are two parts of a whole and are so entwined with each other. It’s the cold of north China and the warmth of south China. It’s heaven and earth. Sun and moon. Night and day. Even numbers as opposed to odd numbers. The phoenix and the dragon.
There was love in the air and that’s all that mattered. Despite the heavy downpour and traffic in Intramuros, the guests came on time. I looked around and observed how beautiful the edifices are in Intramuros, a city of stone constructed from ballasts of ships arriving from Spain during the 16th century up to the early 19th century. Such lofty thoughts of caruajes and ball gowns and mustached men courting ladies in my mind were interrupted when I saw a man in blue shorts. He decided to take a bath in the rain with his shorts on, washing them at the same time. On my right was a vendor on his bike who was texting away with nary a care in the world! His cart had an umbrella and it was loaded with green mangoes. Children were playing on a driveway while a huge balete tree’s roots, which reached the ground, swayed like a hula skirt in the wind.
Upon getting to San Agustin Church, I took out an umbrella and walked, wetting my Ungaro sandals while the other ladies their Ferragamo shoes. I couldn’t help looking down and comparing my footwear with the others while avoiding puddles of water. It was a bit chaotic at the back of the church as guests saw old friends and relatives. I was amazed at the number of guests (most of which were the parents’ friends) from the Chinese community who filled up the church to the rafters. They were all there sharing in Domeng Sr.’s happiness, and those of his son Domeng Jr. and his lovely bride, Leslie Ellen.
I likewise had a report by skipper Basilio Valdez (not the general of the American period who was the aide-de-camp of President Manuel Quezon) from his schooner No. 64 named Concepcion. He was referring to the kidnapping of Pablo Bautista in Capiz’s shorelines at 4 p.m. Yes, the Samals conducted their operations at any time and anywhere. But then, the natives reported the kidnap incidents to the authorities. By the way, that reference would be Capitaña del Puerto de Manila y Cavite 1865. Included in that bundle would be the report on a boat ferrying Bautista to a hideaway on the shores of Zamboanga. Now, many don’t dare report kidnappings to the officials and settle them "amicably." There’s even a Señor Casanova. How could I detach myself from so much comparison, parallelism and grief on what we have today with 19th century events?
There was love in the air and that’s all that mattered. Despite the heavy downpour and traffic in Intramuros, the guests came on time. I looked around and observed how beautiful the edifices are in Intramuros, a city of stone constructed from ballasts of ships arriving from Spain during the 16th century up to the early 19th century. Such lofty thoughts of caruajes and ball gowns and mustached men courting ladies in my mind were interrupted when I saw a man in blue shorts. He decided to take a bath in the rain with his shorts on, washing them at the same time. On my right was a vendor on his bike who was texting away with nary a care in the world! His cart had an umbrella and it was loaded with green mangoes. Children were playing on a driveway while a huge balete tree’s roots, which reached the ground, swayed like a hula skirt in the wind.
Upon getting to San Agustin Church, I took out an umbrella and walked, wetting my Ungaro sandals while the other ladies their Ferragamo shoes. I couldn’t help looking down and comparing my footwear with the others while avoiding puddles of water. It was a bit chaotic at the back of the church as guests saw old friends and relatives. I was amazed at the number of guests (most of which were the parents’ friends) from the Chinese community who filled up the church to the rafters. They were all there sharing in Domeng Sr.’s happiness, and those of his son Domeng Jr. and his lovely bride, Leslie Ellen.
BrandSpace Articles
<
>