Manuel Luis Quezon is the most memorable among our past presidents, because he is the most pleasing to the eye and had the most colorful personality. We should know a bit more about the lives and legacies of our other presidents aside from being familiar with the Metro Manila streets that honor them: Osmeña Hi-way, Roxas Boulevard, J.P. Laurel and C.P. Garcia streets, Quirino and Macapagal Avenues.
While Roxas and Quezon have cities named after them, Quezon City grabbed the title as capital of the Philippines from Manila in the years 1948 to 1976. Roxas and Quezon have been on our banknotes since the postwar Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas first issued our currency, but Quezon is on the distinctive orange banknote, while Roxas languishes in a drab blue hue. Unlike the rest of our presidents, Quezon is remembered not just on his birthday, Aug. 19, but during the entire August, since Buwan ng Wika is inextricably linked to the acknowledged Father of the National Language.
In college, I came across Juan F. Rivera’s “Quezon: Thoughts and anecdotes about him and his fights” (1978). Rivera’s work was not an autobiography like “The Good Fight” (1947), or a biography like Carlos Quirino’s “Quezon: Paladin of Philippine Freedom” (1971). But it definitely made Quezon more human than historical to me. Vintage photos made me see him in a different light from the statues and official portraits of him. The anecdotes in the book endeared Quezon to me, and I started using his famous expletive: “puñeta!”
One anecdote that should be in an updated edition of Rivera is from Honorata de la Rama, National Artist for Theater and Music. While she refused a formal interview, “Aling Atang” and I had regular Sunday morning phone calls, from which I jotted down this anecdote:
“One day while I was rehearsing for a zarzuela, I was told to get ready and go with a man they called “Kastila.” He would be wearing a khaki ensemble, riding breeches and a riding whip. Someone else would pitch for me at that night’s zarzuela.
“‘Kastila’ came on horseback, and since I was small, he placed me in one of the kaing (a large basket woven from bamboo used by merchants to transport fruits and vegetables) hanging on one side of his horse to balance the load of fruits and vegetables on the other side. The trip was long and the man didn’t talk much. He knew I was a singer and he asked me to sing as we went along. I did as I was told, pero nainis ako, kasi mainit (but I was upset because it was very hot)!
“Then we came to a river, where a waiting casco (a flat-bottom covered barge) took us to Baler, Quezon. This part of the trip was more agreeable, because the boat had a shade and I enjoyed watching the flying fish. The men caught fish that they broiled on board, along with some chickens they had taken along with them. Later, they served one palanggana (platter) of rice and tomatoes to go with the freshly cooked fish. As I was very hungry, lamon ako ng lamon (I ate greedily). Water from the river was not good, matabang ang tubig (the water was tasteless), so I was given fresh buko (coconut water).
“After a day’s journey, we arrived at our destination—a big house in Baler. I was asked if I knew how to play the piano. I was not in the mood, so even if I could I told my hosts I only knew how to sing. So a guitarist was called in to accompany me and he asked me what I wanted to sing. I replied: I will sing all the songs you can play. You see, this was not a problem, since I was very good with oido (playing by ear or improvisation) and I could easily pick up a tune. If I didn’t know the lyrics, I would invent them! (laughs). Well, I didn’t write stories and zarzuela scripts for nothing, you know. You have a lot to learn from your lola Atang.
“And you know what? My host turned out to be Aurora Aragon, the future wife of Manuel Quezon! I was brought all the way there as part of Quezon’s courtship! All the way, to sing for his sweetheart! I slept in the Aragon house overnight, and the next day, I took the same route to catch up with the traveling zarzuela company.
“Quezon never brought this up when we met again later on. He had married Doña Aurora and was already President when I was invited to sing in Malacañang. You know, I was even present when Quezon signed the law making Tagalog the National Language. I was not paid for singing for Doña Aurora, but how was I to know then who this ‘Kastila’ was? How was I to know he would become a future President?”
Atang de la Rama did not live to see how courtship has evolved in our day. The harana is history to a generation that makes and breaks love through texting and Tiktok.
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Comments are welcome at aocampo@ateneo.edu