Jacinto's blood

By Gemma Cruz Araneta That morning, the soli­tary road to Magdalena was blushing with bougainvilleas, the native variety, cascades of red, purple, coral mingled with Sampaguita blossoms, yellow bells, and hedges of santan. In some por­tions of the thoroughfare, ancient trees touched to form canopies that filtered the sunlight and cast speckled shadows. The town plaza has unmistake­able vestiges of the Law of the Indies (Leyes de las Indias): The fortified stone church was constructed on a promontory and across it the municip­io, also on an elevated area and just as massive, is now called Pamahalaang Bayan ng Magdalena, Laguna. There is a Gabaldon schoolhouse which has suffered restoration, the capiz win­dows have been replaced with glass, interrupting the cross ventilation which was the secret cooling system of those American-period structures. The wrap-around verandas are now enclosed with grills, probably a secu­rity measure. There is a monument of Jose Rizal with Inang Filipinas (his true love) holding a lantern to guide him through the troubled path he had chosen. It is made of concrete; Rizal casts a benign gaze at the viewer, like the plaster saints in the church, he is also just as white. He is wearing the ubiquitous European overcoat. Beside Rizal is a pensive Emilio Jacinto holding a quill under his chin and a thick notebook in his left hand. Mayor David Adven­turado, Jr. explained that they wanted to show Emilio Jacinto’s intellectual and philosophical side which the young people do not know about that is why, instead of the rifle in his death photo, the hero of Magdalena is shown with the paraphernalia of a man of letters, though the statue does have a sidearm. Emilio Jacinto and Julio Nakpil were assigned to engage the Span­ish forces in what was then north­ern Manila, but Jacinto went back to Magdalena after Bonifacio was executed. He fought at the battle of Maimpis River in February 1898, was severely wounded and on horseback rode to the Magdalena church where he died. To this day, that corner of the church where he breathed his last and shed blood is enclosed in glass. Towns­people believe that after more than a century, the smudges on the tiled floor, protected by a glass case, are drops of the hero’s blood. “Wala nang dugo diyan,” said Dr. Rio Almario, National Artist for Filipino Literature. As head of the National Commission of Culture and the Arts (NCCA), he goes around the country reviving the nation’s col­lective memory not only of its political heroes but also of eminent Filipinos in the fields of literature and science. It was Dr. Almario who invited me to Magdalena. He asked me to bring friends along, so I asked Mrs. Encarnacion Laurel Loewen (our grandparents were children of Maria Rizal) if she wanted to come. I also asked Mrs. Concepcion Brozas, a BBF from Liliw, to meet me there. More than 20 years ago, Mrs. Brozas took me to Magdalena to pay homage to Emilio Jacinto and see those drops of blood. That morning, she told Mayor Aven­turado that that place where Jacinto was wounded belongs to her family and that they had placed a marker in his honor. I heard them discussing plans of putting an equestrian monu­ment of Emilio Jacinto in place of the simple marker. To my horror, I heard the emcee announcing that I was going to say a few words, Dr. Rio Almario’s idea, no doubt. Since the mayor had already extolled Jacinto’s patriotism and I was sure Rio would talk about the Kartilla and Jacinto’s plan of government, after which Prof. Michael Xiao Chua would give a lecture, what else could I possibly add? From the bottom of my heart, I said that I was deeply touched by the flower offerings. There was only one official de rigueur wreath from Mayor and Mrs. Aventurado. The officials of Magdalena’s 24 barangays offered the rest of the flowers. They each carried sprigs of gumamelas, chichiricas, santan, wild roses, sampaguitas, ilang-ilang, carnations, orchids, bou­gainvilleas that they had cut from their backyards and front gardens. In single file, they walked to Jacinto’s monument and laid their offerings with love and respect. The base of the monument was smothered with the fragrant tribute. Now, why didn’t that occur to me when I was working for former Manila Mayor Alfredo Lim? Why didn’t we ask the barangay officials (there are 800 barangays in Manila, not counting Erap’s 27 ghosts) to bring their home­grown flowers? Then, I had to sadly admit that Manila is covered with reinforced concrete, unlike lush and verdant Magdalena. Although many of our revolutionary heroes shed their blood in Manila, gone are the capital city’s fabled parks and gardens. Fresh na­tive blooms are things of the past.