Jose Rizal

Just after the end of World War II, when I was in elementary or possibly first year high school, I recall reciting before the class Abraham Lincoln’s “Gettysburg Address.” My teacher was so pleased with my delivery, and commended me for the fine work I had done. I had only the faintest idea who Lincoln was and Gettysburg was some strange battlefield where many soldiers fought and died. I could not figure out why we were devoting much time and effort on this subject.

Some people say that one of the blessings of US colonial rule was the establishment of a public school system aimed at bringing about education not just for the elite but for all our people. At times, blessings can also be burdens; systems can also be forms of enslavement. While we were being brainwashed with all kinds of historical data concerning our colonial masters, we did not learn much about our own people, about many events that shaped the future of our country, about the men and women who fought and sacrificed their lives for our freedom and dignity.

Today we mark the 161st birth anniversary of Dr. Jose Rizal. For those of you who know much about Rizal, you won’t find anything new in this piece. But for those who, like myself, have basic and limited knowledge about our national hero, you may wish to linger awhile as we go through some of the lesser known aspects of his life and times. I am deeply grateful to National Artist for Literature, F. Sionil Jose, for his generous gift of a book on Rizal by Austin Coates, “Rizal – Filipino Nationalist and Patriot.” My notes are mainly from this book.

Jose Rizal was born on June 19, 1861 in Calamba, Laguna, the seventh child and second son of Francisco Mercado and Teodora Alonzo. Some of us may be wondering why the surname Rizal instead of Mercado. The explanation is that Francisco Mercado wanted to change his surname from Mercado which meant “marketplace” to Rizal, meaning “the green of renewal.” But the Spanish authorities, who in 1850 made the use of surnames compulsory, refused the request for change.

Francisco Mercado was a prosperous sugar planter, a man of few words, with a reasonably good education. Teodora Alonzo was one of the best educated native women of her day, having been sent to the College of Sta. Rosa in Manila. She spoke excellent English and was a mathematician. Perhaps, because she was more cultivated than many of the Spaniards in Calamba, she was a target of envy that would result in her arrest twice by the authorities. Teodora’s detention and harsh treatment would have a profound and lasting effect and influence on the future directions of her son.

While on the surface, a civil government existed, the Philippines of Rizal’s time was essentially a “frailocracy,” a government of friars. The Augustinians, Dominicans and Franciscans controlled the religious and educational life of the country. The Spanish friar in each parish was responsible for collection of taxes, public works, issuance of cedula and other government activities normally shouldered by civil authorities. On every issue throughout the country, the friars were consulted and in the end were the final arbiters. Today, 160 years after, we still have “friars” in our midst, ghosts of the past whose actions at times remind us of the “frailocracy” that once ruled the country.

At age 11, Rizal was sent to Manila to study at the Ateneo Municipal, run by Jesuit priests, not by friars. He became the outstanding student of the day, exhibiting exceptional qualities of leadership. In a poem he wrote on education, he stressed that “education is the vital breath that causes a nation to rise to its most brilliant heights; that wherever education is implanted, there will grow up a youth invigorated and strong.” It was a subtle condemnation of the restrictive educational system of the friars.

From the Ateneo, he moved to the University of Sto. Tomas. Here he bested peninsular Spaniards in a literary contest in Spanish, commemorating the Centenary of Cervantes. When his name was announced and the audience realized the winner was an indio, “the applause dwindled, to be replaced with laughter and catcalls.” While attending various universities in Europe, he picked up fluency in Spanish, German, English, French and Italian, plus a degree in medicine specializing in ophthalmic surgery. Here, he wrote his famous novels “Noli Me Tangere” and “El Filibusterismo,” works that would serve as the inspiration of the Philippine Revolution of 1896, making him the object of suspicion and surveillance by Spanish authorities.

Fast forward to October 1896. Rizal was arrested and returned to Manila to be imprisoned at Fort Santiago. In his cell were a Bible and a copy of Thomas a’ Kempis’ “On the Imitation of Christ.” After a brief trial he was sentenced to be executed by firing squad on Dec. 30, at seven in the morning. A day before his execution, women members of the family were allowed to visit him. The first to enter was his mother Teodora. As she drew near to embrace her son, guards held them apart. The Bible was left to his mother while the Kempis book was for Josephine Bracken. In an alcohol burner was hidden his final farewell to country and people, “Ultimo Adios.”

The place of execution was the Luneta. Ironically, the firing squad consisted of Filipino soldiers, behind them stood a row of Spanish soldiers. At 7:03 a.m., the end came for the greatest Filipino who ever lived.

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Email: rjfarolan56@gmail.com