Panagimpan
This is a story told to me by a woman who had the window seat that was mine before she began her story. Whenever I take a plane trip that is longer than six hours, I do everything possible to get a window seat, but it was such a fantastic tale that I agreed to exchange places with her if she would continue the story up to the very end. She did. It is up to you, dear reader, to judge if the story is true or not, because I still have to find people who were in Pilipinas between the years 1979 and 2029.
Jose Rizal is the national hero of Pilipinas. From what I have read and heard of him, he was the greatest Filipino that trod the earth. He was not so much a genius as he was a man who used his intelligence and skills to their utmost with single-minded purpose and tenacity, thus surpassing those with brighter intellects. Jose Rizal devoted his life to uplifting Pilipinas from its downtrodden state and that made him the enemy of those in power. He was sentenced to death and executed in 1896 at Bagumbayan that was later renamed Luneta. Not surprisingly his death made him world famous and he was idolized and iconized in his homeland. Jose Rizal was most assuredly an interesting man but not more so than the second Jose Rizal who appeared in the year 2002 seemingly out of nowhere.
A boy named Jose Andres was so different from his classmates that his teachers noticed him at once. He would have been the favorite of all his teachers if he were not so aloof . Jose was always polite and never alluded to the top honors that he won in all subjects, including physical education and home economics. He spoke clearly and never raised his voice because there was never any need for it; his audience was always totally his.
Everyone expected Jose Andres to be the president of Pilipinas one day. They were all wrong.
As he grew to early manhood, Jose Andres began to look like Jose Rizal. the national hero. No matter how he combed his hair, it grew thick and wavy, parting in exactly the same way as that of Jose Rizal. His nose that used to be a nice “mestizo” nose became broader and his face became what is often described as the flat Asian face. Worse, he did not fulfill the promise of height when he was a long-limbed boy of 12. He stopped growing taller at age 20 and his height remained 5 ft. 4 inches, which was exactly the same height as Rizal’s. That was when people began calling him “Jose Rizal” and it made him so unhappy that his parents sent him to Europe where he could continue his studies in peace.
Jose Andres was born to an affluent couple who would have wanted more children to be the heirs of their vast holdings in Pilipinas. No other children came. Jose could have lived the life of a prince in Europe but he lived as simply as the other students. He had many friends but he spent most of his time with older people who were delighted to have such a bright protegé.
One clear day in the winter of 2001, Jose sat bolt upright at the desk where he was working on a paper that he should hand in the next day. He heard it first before he saw it on the TV that was tuned in on a news channel. The president of Pilipinas had been ousted and the whole country was in ecstatic celebration. To his horror, he saw his father among the small group that were with the new president, the second woman president of Pilipinas. There were a few priests too, one or two of them wearing the bright purple cap of a bishop or something. Jose
felt sick in the stomach and got up to get a glass of cold water. He had to call home. But, no, his father would not be at home but with the triumphant group, which means that his mother would not be at home either.
Jose finished the paper he was writing and opened a new file folder for what he knew would contain dozens of files before the week was over. On that day began his lonely crusade. Jose began writing articles and rewriting each in the different languages and styles for each of the audiences that he wanted to reach. All the articles focused on one thing: Pilipinas would be saved only if the whole socia structure were changed.
As Jose had foreseen, things went from bad to worse in Pilipinas. At the beginning of her second year in office, the president announced that her government was able to collect only about 20% of total collectible taxes. Obviously her government was functioning on money that had been borrowed from foreign creditors. Yet, big malls were mushrooming in the capital and all sorts of consumer goods filled the shop. Malls were overcrowded on weekends but it looked like more than half of the people were just there to enjoy the air.conditioning. while looking at merchandise they could not afford. The president said in a speech that in 10 years, the total population would increase from 80 to about 100 million, but she continued to recommend the natural birth control method, which is no method at all, because the population increased by 2% within the year.
The telephone was ringing. It must have been ringing for quite a while because Jose was dozing while still facing the PC monitor without realizing that he had fallen asleep. It was his father.
“Jose, your country needs you. I want you to take the first plane to Pilipinas.”
“Why? What do they need me for?”
“The President wants you to take the position of Governor of the Central Bank. That is a big honor and you cannot refuse it.”
“Of course, I can. I’m not coming.”
“You must and you will.”
“Who shall make me?”
“Your conscience!” and his father banged the phone on its receiver, though it might have crashed on the heavy crystal ashtray beside it because Jose’s ears were ringing with a painful buzz.
Several months later, Jose was on a plane back to Europe. He did go back to Pilipinas but not to work as Governor of the Central Bank. He had travelled across the country seeking potential leaders for a mass organization that he has designed for Pilipinas. Obviously, Jose has been quite successful because he was soon charged with “destabilizing” the government through his speeches and articles. But it was not only the government that was after his hide, the NPA too had targetted him as a dangerous reactionary. As if two great enemies were not enough, the Church had condemned his articles as atheistic and blasphemous because Jose Andres declared that there is no heaven just as there is no hell and, therefore, there is no pie in the sky..
Back in his spartan flat in Europe, Jose transferred all his Pilipinas files in a CD and began another folder. He was going to write a novel. Fiction is, after all, can be truer than life. His countrymen prefer stories to historical and political writings. Very well, he shall give them a good story. As with everything he does, Jose put his entire heart and soul in his novel that he titled One Hundred Years of Slumbering. His characters were based on real people that represented all types of his countrymen, and real events were thinly masked with a mere change of places and dates. The tone was a delicious mix of sardonic humor and melancholy.
One Hundred Years of Slumbering was a big success. It was translated into seven of the major languages in Pilipinas. Three movie production outfits were madly outbidding each other for the right to make a movie of it. It was so successful that the enemies who forced Jose into exile were in a helpless rage.
Nobody was surprised when Jose wrote a second novel that was obviously a sequel to the first. Half of his readers were pleased because they believed that the novel indicated a complete change of heart in the author. The other half of his readers were angrily disappointed for the same reason. Jose was no longer calling for total overhaul of the social structure of Pilipinas. Instead, he wrote of a failed revolution, a revolution that failed because the people were not ready for it.
By the time the second novel that was titled “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Revolutionary”, the first novel has been translated into a few European languages and in English. Jose Andres’ fans and admirers had tripled and among there was a group that nominated him for the Nobel Prize for Literature. That year, all the nominees for that prize were from Europe and the Americas. Jose was the only Asian. Jose won. Jose Andres was the first Asian to receive the coveted price of the literati.
In Pilipinas, the news was greeted first with stunned silence, then everything went into an uproar. Politicians were falling all over themselves to get Jose Andres as their standard bearer for the coming presidential elections, the loudest voice among them was that of the woman president who had charged Jose Andres of destabilizing her government. She lost her bid for reelection to an actor and that was something she could never understand. Now, here is a man who might bring her back to power. Jose Andres was being described as a superman, a miracle worker, the savior who would put everything to right in Pilipinas. And Pilipinas needs a woman president who be the mother of all.
Delegation after delegation called on Jose Andres at his simple flat in Europe. They used all manner of persuasion, not the least of which was emotional blackmail. Jose felt he was being hounded and, for the first time in his 35 years, he needed to take a sedative so he can catch a few hours of sleep.
It is not quite clear how they persuaded Jose Andres to come back to Pilipinas and run for president. He packed a small bag after turning over his flat to his best friend, the only gift he could think of to give to one who has been with him through thick and thin.
All roads leading to Pilipinas National Airport were jammed with people waving flags and banners. Very conspicuous in the crowd were squads of policemen and military detachments that were to provide security for Jose Andres. Not everybody was happy that he was coming home. There were strong powerful groups that knew their glory days will be over once Jose Andres is elected president. Jose Andres would see to it that education is for all, and that is the most dangerous thing of all. The people would begin to think for themselves and the hierarchy of recognized authority would be gone. Running for office would no longer be a safe and quick way to amass wealth and power because the people would know how to deal with corrupt officials. If Pilipinas were to rise out of the muck, the monetary value will rise and that would be the end of their dream to live as kings and princes in Pilipinas with their dollars stashed in foreign banks. Spending their dollars outside of Pilipinas is not a good idea at all. Outside they would just be little fish in a very big pond. Jose Andres is the one enemy they cannot afford.
The plane taxied into the runway. The excitement was near frenzy. Suddenly there was a rumble of sound. It started as a murmur from somewhere in the arrivals area and grew into waves of sound. People looked at each other in disbelief. Jose Andres is dead, shot by an assassin’s bullet.
When the woman beside me fell silent, I looked at her wonderingly and asked, “What happened to Pilipinas after that?
“What Pilipinas? There is no longer a Pilipinas.” She looked at me and laughed, “Didn’t you know there is no longer a Pilipinas.?”
“No, but how could that be? A country doesn’t just disappear.”
“Oh, yes, it could,” she said. “When Jose Andres died, everything just went kaput. Half the people began to fill up the churches and prayed 24 hours, going in shifts. I suppose they were praying for a miracle. The other half remembered what Jose Andres said, that there is no pie in the sky. Those are the ones who declared independence from the national government and protected their borders because they absolutely refused to be milked out of their resources by the former capital region.”
“You must be joking,” I said,
“Maybe,” she said and, turning away, she reclined her head on the angle formed by the back of her seat and the window.
I did not feel deprived of my preferred seat because all idea of sleep had gone. It was a strange story. Maybe it was a true story. Who knows?
The End