I am a Filipino

I am a Filipino-inheritor of the glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such, I must prove equal to a two fold task- the task of meeting my responsibility to the past and the task of performing my obligation to the future.

I am sprung from a hardy race- child of many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave and whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope-hope in free abundance of the new land that was to be their home and their children’s forever.

This excerpt was taken from Carlos P. Romulo’s I am a Filipino, an essay that showed not only his ever flowing patriotism for his beloved country, the Philippines but his brilliant mind and the gift of words. This article encases the words we need to make our heart swell with pride. As what Ninoy and Cory Aquino had once said, “The Filipinos, regardless of their flaws, are worth dying and living for.” These people are few of those who had let their life be taken for the sake of the country they loved the most, the one of a kind pearl of the orient.

Many heroes have died for our country, but looking at it now, I can’t believe we have executed things that will lead us to nothing but destruction. I can’t believe we had the same blood in that pulsated in our veins as that of Jose Rizal and of our heroes. We are not worthy of the freedom we have now. And we are not worthy of the lives wasted in order to bring this country standing still. The reasons why we are worthless? They are simple, because we are shameless and are blinded by money and power.

Take the Maguindanao Massacre as the most vivid example. The world stood still for the most brutal murder that had happened in history. Innocent people were buried alive in the rich soil of Maguindanao w/o being given the chance to fight for their lives. And who had committed this heinous crime? Who committed these brutal acts against our co-Filipinos? He is just a powerful man who belonged to the same race as these victims do. And what had pushed him to do that? Money, Power and nothing more. Yes, the suspect may have been placed behind the bars and persecuted for what he had done, yet the brutal action he had done will always linger in the air. The fact that a Filipino was more than willing to kill and execute a brutal murder against innocent persons who belonged to the same race as his just because of a thing as simple as money and power would always remain in our hearts and would always leave a red mark in history. And not only that, there are more actions that will make us feel humiliated in front our heroes. Graft, corruption, abuse of power, stealing, murder, the list is too long to be ignored. Who would oppose these acts if not us? When would these acts be opposed if not now?

Till We Meet Again

“Dad, Do I really need to get to school?” I asked, my voice slightly blended with laughter. We were sitting in the kitchen table, reminiscing the day my Mom did a terrible search of her missing eyeglasses only to find herself remembering that she was wearing it after all when I suddenly piped in together with a topic concerning the boring four walls of the classroom and the high pitched voices of the teachers that can be summed up in one word, the school.

“Of course, how can you buy me a car when you don’t want to go to school?” he answered, his voice in deep baritone. I smiled at his answer, of course, how can I buy my Dad, the world’s legendary Dad a car when I don’t want to go to school. I stared at him, he was gently sipping is coffee, causing the aroma to scatter in the room. Then he turned at me and said, “Listen, young lady, the only thing a robber can’t take is your knowledge, he can take everything you had but not knowledge.” That was it, a man of few words; he had summed up everything that will awaken my enthusiasm for education in a one single sentence. I advanced towards him and hugged him. Then suddenly, I was pulled back to the present. I gently opened my closed eyes. There beside me was my mom, crying like a child who had badly scraped her knees. I searched my memory for answers to questions. What was happening? Then suddenly, it all came back to me.


I stared at him with teary eyes. He was just there, not moving at all, his face devoid with any expression. The smile that I once thought was engraved in his face was suddenly gone. I could feel my tears sliding down silently in my pinkish cheeks silently shouting the pain I was keeping in my heart. I gently closed my eyes, I could feel my heart’s reluctance to admit what was happening at that moment yet deep inside, and I cannot deny everything for every cell in my body knew it was true. The happiness that I once thought secured by a barrier that cannot be penetrated was silently slipping away while I continued fulfilling my whims and caprices, unaware of anything. What was happening now seemed to be impossible to comprehend; these things only happen in books that I read, how could this be happening to me? What mistake did I do to deserve this punishment? But what really is happening? Then, like a flash, the realization struck me, as loud as thunder, as hard as stone, no matter how much effort I exert to deny everything, the conclusion is inescapable, my Dad is leaving, and I hate him for causing these pain to us, how could he?

Hate. Maybe the word was an understatement. What I feel was more than hate. No matter how I love my Daddy, I still couldn’t accept it. How could he leave us? He had no right! I stared at him, unable to move, momentarily paralyzed. His eyes were closed; there were neither tears nor any sign of pain. How selfish of him, he left us for someone who would give him everlasting happiness, while us, are left mending our hearts that could never be mended, longing for someone who left and would never come back.

“When a person was born, he cried and the world rejoiced, when he dies, we cry and he rejoices,” the woman was saying. Then another realization struck me, along with it was a tearful smile. My Daddy loved us, no matter what, it’s just that, we are given life in a form of debt, and we must pay it back. No matter how painful, I must let him go, no matter how much I love him, I must set him free. No matter how much I miss him, I must say goodbye. Cause maybe, somehow, deep, deep down, I know he wouldn’t leave us walking alone in the path of life, no matter how far he is. I concentrated my sight to his face as I gently caress the glass of his coffin, at last, my Daddy would be free from pain. And I love him that much to let him go. My Daddy left us for someone, yes he left us, he left us for God.

Death is a part of life, but death doesn't mean the end of it, but rather the beggining of an everlasting happiness. Death also brings countless lessons, some can only be understood by the heart. As what St. Francis had written in the Prayer of St. Francis:

it is in giving that we reciceve

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned

and it is dying that we are born to eternal life