‘True confessions: My first time’

150 years since Jose Rizal’s birth, half a century since the nation  celebrated his birth centennial in a grand way in 1961 (and his death  centennial in 1996) one would think that we would know all that we  should know about Rizal by now. The many papers delivered at different  conferences here and abroad, however, proves that this is not so and  that there will always be new perspectives on Rizal for a long time.

Unlike other scholars I offer nothing new except a call to return to  the primary sources yet again to ask new questions of something old or  ask old questions to get new answers.

Half my life was spent researching, writing and lecturing on  Rizal, in those years past I have focused on obscure details to keep  my newspaper deadlines, to keep my students awake, to keep people  thinking. Now I look back.

Many know the story, how I turned up at the National Archives one day  in my youth, curious to see, touch, smell the ancient papers that  comprise the primary sources for our history. Then as now the National  Archives was a friendly institution: I filled up a form, paid a  minimal fee and was handed a worn folder containing the menu of  historical materials available. It was a simple list of topics, in  Spanish, sorted by bundles roughly identified by subject and I looked  up: Divorcio, Aborto, Extranjeros, Cedulas. While waiting for bundles  to be brought in from storage one could browse through bound  photocopies of the Record groups marked: Sediciones y Rebelliones and  Ereccion de Pueblos available in the reading room. At some point I let  my finger do the walking down a list of Varias personas noting names I  remembered from textbook history. It was from this list that I  requested the Rizal bundle and waited. A researcher from the National  Historical Institute, who was eavesdropping on everyone else in the  room, read my request form, smirked and with an odd mixture of  condescension and assistance, came up to me and whispered “Why do you  want to see the Rizal bundle? What do you expect to find there?”

Everything on Rizal has been written and published already. “Gasgas na  yan” were his sharp words. Those words rang in my ears years later when  this man was caught red-handed by NBI agents in an Ermita antique shop  peddling original documents he pilfered from the Philippine Insurgent  Records in the National Library (and I’m sure he lifted from the  National Archives as well). After a trial that took almost a decade he  was found guilty and has since “disappeared” protected, it is  rumored, by a powerful political patron.

Looking back, if I had been swayed by his practical advice, my life  would have turned out differently. I could be doing town or family  histories and not be the Rizal scholar I am today. That fateful day my  pride got the better of me. Shamed, I held my ground and nervously  awaited the delivery of the Rizal bundle. What if he was right, what  if everything on Rizal had already been written and published? My only  concern at the time was the experience of handling Rizal manuscripts,  I wanted to literally touch history. Compared with the hefty bundles  of archival manuscripts on the desks of the other researchers, the  Rizal bundle that landed on my desk looked slim and unpromising.

Untying the string and opening the Manila paper wrapping I was greeted  by a note signed by James Alexander Robertson, Director of the  National Library, he of “Blair and Robertson” fame. Long before the  war, Robertson had ordered and authorized the transfer of all the  Rizal manuscripts in the Archives to the National Library!

My heart sank, my self-esteem gutted, I felt the NHI researcher’s  eyes on my back. No Rizal letters for me, but wait there were other  materials in the bundle, surely these were worth something. These  documents turned out to be letters of Rizal’s sisters. These were not  by Rizal himself or directly concerning him but these forgotten  deteriorating letters painted a picture of the family life, the  context in which our hero lived. Other letters from his sisters have  since come my way thanks to the generosity of collectors who allowed  me to photocopy them.

Almost three decades since I first gathered these they remain unused  and unread in my files because I was derailed by many detours in my  life. This trip down memory lane is addressed to young people who,  like me, will follow the path of Clio, the Greek goddess of history.

Many people who see me lecture or read these columns fail to realize  that it took years of research and long hours of reading to make  history effortless and fun in my hands. If I had believed that  everything on Rizal had been written already, that Rizal was “gasgas”  or worn, my life would’ve turned out differently. I was not a historian  when I first stepped into the National Archives, the National Museum,  the National Library, or the National Historical Commission. Three  decades ago I was just a curious young person who was not shooed away  but welcomed into a world that has since become my own. Some people  find fame and fortune in their work, mine is a bottomless pit, Rizal  studies looks crowded but there is still a lot of work left for a new  generation of scholars and my one wish is to see the next Ambeth  Ocampo on the horizon.

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