Belated anniversaries - Rizal Day
As far as national heroes go, Jose Rizal was a strange choice. He was an eye doctor, a writer and a ladies’ man, and wanted no part of the violent uprising against Spanish rule that his writings helped bring about. It was his execution on December 30, 1896, however, that fanned the flame of the Philippine Revolution, which brought about the end of 300-odd years of Spanish rule.
As it turns out, Gat Jose Rizal spent a few months in Hong Kong, where he practiced his craft and managed to pick up a young woman. To commemorate the 110th anniversary of Rizal’s death, I put on my handy “Jose is My Hero” t-shirt (thank you, Andrea), and, with Grumpus as photographer, visited his Hong Kong hotspots.
Photos after the jump.
The first photo was taken by the Mid-levels escalator, near where we live. The plaque says that Rizal lived in the area with his family in 1891-92. Someone put out a wreath, which was really nice.
The second photo was taken outside a busy building on D’Aguilar Street in Central. I’m pretty sure scores of people pass by everyday and miss the plaque, which says that Rizal practiced medicine in the area in 1891-92. On one rare, observant day last year I actually paid attention to my surroundings and was happily surprised to discover that fact.
The last photo was taken on the rooftop of the IFC shopping mall. No connection to Rizal.
The two non-Hong Kong photos in this series (blue skies) were taken in Spain two and a half years ago. Up above is the Rizal monument in Madrid, a smaller version of the one in Luneta. And below is Grumpus mugging at a bronze replica of Rizal’s handwritten Ultimo Adios. Now I know you all know that I’m a crybaby, but one of the cry-iest moments of my life was when I saw the original handwritten version of that poem encased in glass, removed for a few moments from a vault at the Philippine National Museum and shown to an eager bunch of Philippine History students. Rizal wrote it the night before he was executed, folded it into many times over, and stuffed it into an oil lamp that he asked be given to his family. Nearly a hundred years later, we could still see those creases.
Wasn’t it the Americans who chose Rizal, precisely because he wasn’t a revolutionary?
Why are our heroes losers or martyrs? My personal choice for national hero would be Lapu Lapu, perhaps our only winner!
Something like that, daddy. The Americans and the Jesuits. And is “losers or martyrs” a softer restatement of your “matalino at duwag o bobo at matapang” theory of Philippine hero-dom? Lapu Lapu would be a good choice, but he was Cebuano, and everybody knows that the Cebuanos are crazy.