‘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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