Filipineses


My first Glorious Fourth (for One Shoot Sunday)

fireworks, courtesy of wikicommons

The heat of the merciless Manhattan sun: this is the first thing I remember of that morning eleven years ago at a July 4th celebration, my first, in New York. The earnestness in the rush on the streets leading to Penn Station is the second thing which struck me as I huffed breathlessly through that mile and a half from downtown where I was staying with a Filipino friend.

Where was everybody going?

Inside the cavernous station, I felt even more lost as moving walls of people seemed to heave, instead of step, into their trains. Like hundreds of New Yorkers on a holiday, my friend and I boarded one of those coaches to Long Island’s north shore. I learned that Independence Day in most of America is celebrated in homes – among families.

Right off Westbury Station, our stop, I gleaned the Stars and Stripes planted on yards and home fronts. But didn’t I notice them flapping on Manhattan building facades? Maybe my focus was fuzzy in between the towers that slice the sky in the city, but sharper on the Long Island landscape of pretty houses with peaked roofs and latticed balconies.

On dappled sidewalks, passing through trimmed lawns, I felt the air enriched with holiday sounds such as shrieks of children, parents’ firm voices, and music from parties in progress. The air too, was textured with the scent of food – most sharply of meat being barbecued in backyards, some by the swimming pool and others under terraces, or shades of conifers.

waiting for the fireworks, image by Gay Cannon

My friend’s niece decked her terrace with Stars and Stripes buntings; even the table cover and napkins bore the colors. But the laid-out feast revealed the history of the household’s family, a narrative so common in families of America. There was pancit canton guisado (Chineses noodles) cooked by the niece’s Filipino mom, pasta from the Italian mother-in-law, hipon (shrimp) and alimasag (crab), from a Filipino aunt, sausage and peppers the Italian husband laid out on platters, rice and, of course, barbecued hotdogs and burgers.

Talk among family members were to me, slivers of life I had only imagined. An uncle of the host, a recent senior citizen ID carrier, spoke of his age with a new tune – it puts him first in any line like a boarding queue on a plane or in Disneyland; and it gives him 50 percent off bus fares and hotel rates, allows him time for more tennis and carpentry and Social Security perks.

The Italian grandmother in a motorized wheelchair showed off a cap with matching belt bag she got at a discount store that carries production overruns and sells everything for 99 cents. She had shopped on 6th Avenue from 24th to 32nd a week before, rolling up and down the sidewalks where there are defined ramps at every curb. She had taken the bus too, that ‘kneels’ as the door opens and the motorized steps flatten out turned into a ramp, and then raised to the level of the bus floor where on a designated row, the wheelchair locks into place.

There was talk about a Chinese in-law wrapping up work in Connecticut before she moves to Texas to a job with a fatter paycheck. A nephew who got his Med Tech degree at UST but who finished grade and middle school in New York had just returned, landing a job as a night lab technician. He didn’t mind the hours, and has taken a day job that gives a higher pay. He is in the Hall of Fame at his Long Island high school where he played tennis and won awards. Some nights, he puts this skill to good use, training petulant daughters of the privileged in an exclusive New York club.

Mere family banter but which, for me, unraveled the heart of democracy – equal rights and equal opportunities. As I listened, my awe dimmed when I thought of home in the Philippines. Isn’t my country ruled by the same principles? I thought, a bit sad.

Lunch over, we rolled up the table cover, crunched the napkins, and tossed these in the trash. As I crossed the lawn to sit on the swing, keeping to the edge fenced by the uniformly growing pines, I glimpsed through adjacent yards where barbecue lunches were winding down, too. Except for sheer markers like trees – a pear serves as a “cornerstone” – no walls topped with barbwire set off properties here.

I thought it was the end of the celebration when we said our goodbyes to catch the train back to Manhattan. The summer sun was yet mid-way its fall on the horizon as we boarded the 7 p.m. train.

We came back to a city jammed to the seams. The morning exodus at Penn Station had reversed; everybody had trained in, headed toward the East River for the fireworks. Blindly moving with the horde, we finally came to one of those parks opened to the public by private owners. This was at Kips Bay behind one of the many branches of New York University Hospital. Standing on the plant boxes, we scanned the sky. The fireworks were launched that year from four barges afloat the East River. This year, according to my friend, these were set on seven barges, a double whammy from South Street Seaport and the East River.

At 9:30, as in past years, the night sky started to breathe a quiet fire, exploding minute blossoms, and then raining splinters of the rainbow, swarming with shards of moonbeams or pompoms that heaved into giant chandeliers later falling on our faces. The display held us in what seemed a beatific moment. Around me, I saw faces lit by the shower of stars. With each variation – and not one seemed alike – our “ohs” and “ahs” swelled and ebbed.

That was all the sound I heard because we were too far to catch the symphony to which the pyrotechnics danced. No ear-splitting bawang or gunpowder smoke choked the air. Again, I thought of home and wished for a New Year’s Eve like the Fourth of July, and its promises I woke up to in New York.

Copyright © by Alegria Imperial as published in the Times Journal, 7/11/99, Manila

Posted for One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry, the inimitable gathering place for artists and poets. Come check us out!

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The Philippines: Its Hard-fought for Independence

If it were not reverted to June 12 in 1962 by the late President Diosdado P. Maca­pagal with the passage of Republic Act 4166 by Congress, Filipinos to this day would still be celebrating Independence Day on July 4, twelve hours before Americans wake up to it.

The Philippines gained independence from the United States on July 4, 1946 as promised on Aug. 29, 1916 in the Jones Law, which was amended in March 24, 1934 by the Tydings-McDuffie Law. Were it not for the outbreak of World War II which drew an unprepared Philippines, the Filipinos would have gained yet another independence from foreign rule earlier.

For it did gain its independence from Spain after a revolution that began in 1896, which in truth turned out to be a mere culmination of a series of 41 recorded revolts from 1574 to 1888—not including a revolt waged by Princess Urduja in Pangasinan whose army fought the Spaniards from 1680 to 1692. This is according to Bobby Reyes who claims in his blog that “July 4 is the Philippines’ true independence.” Going by his account, the Filipinos hardly submitted to foreign rule, and that includes the brief British occupation.

It is a known fact that fifty years before America granted the Philippines its independence, the country has already proclaimed it on June 12, 1898. This happened on the balcony of General Emilio Aguinaldo’s house in Kawit, Cavite; among the revolutionary leaders who had died in the wake of separate fierce fighting, General Aguinaldo survived with an even bigger following. The Philippine flag was first raised on that day and the national anthem, played.

That day supposedly ended 300 years of foreign domination by the Spaniards. But apparently, in an event larger than the sphere of politics the Filipinos could grasp, Spain in its defeat during the Spanish-American War waged in Latin America “ceded the Philippines to the United States in the 1898 Treaty of Paris, in consideration for an indemnity for Spanish expenses and assets lost.” The Americans controlled the Walled City of Intramuros after their May 1, 1898 naval victory at Manila Bay, also called the Battle of Manila Bay but more commonly dismissed as a ‘mock battle’.

Still in January 1, 1899 Aguinaldo was declared President of the Philippines — the only president of what would be later called the First Philippine Republic. He later organized a Congress to draft a constitution. But tensions between the Philippine and the American governments continued because of the conflicting movements for independence and colonization, aggravated by the feelings of betrayal on the part of Aguinaldo. The Malolos Congress declared war on the United States on June 2, 1899, with Pedro Paterno, President of Congress, issuing a Proclamation of War.

The war officially ended on July 4, 1902. However, remnants of the Philippine Army, and other resistance groups continued hostilities against American rule until 1913. The U.S. conquest of the Philippines has been described in some accounts as “a genocide” and resulted in the death of 1.4 million Filipinos (out of a total population of seven million).

During that two-year period, U.S. President William McKinley reiterated “the intention of the United States Government to establish and organize government—essentially popular in form—in the municipal and provincial administrative divisions of the Philippine Islands. In line with this, he confers upon the Second Philippine Commission, headed by William Howard Taft, the authority to exercise the legislative power of government beginning 1 September 1900.”

In the Letter of Instruction dated April 7, 1900 sent through Elihu Root, Secretary of War and transmitted to the Congress on the December 5, 1899, McKinley said, speaking of the Philippine Islands: “As long as the insurrection continues the military arm must necessarily be supreme. But there is no reason why steps should not be taken from time to time to inaugurate governments essentially popular in their form as fast as territory is held and controlled by our troops. To this end I am considering the advisability of the return of the commission, or such of the members thereof as can be secured, to aid the existing authorities and facilitate this work throughout the islands.”

In the wake of World War II where Filipinos and Americans fought a fierce war against the Japanese, representatives of the United States of America and of the Republic of the Philippines signed a Treaty of General Relations between the two governments. The treaty provided “for the recognition of the independence of the Republic of the Philippines as of July 4, 1946, and the relinquishment of American sovereignty over the Philippine Islands.”

To this day as America’s skies blossom, boom, and pop with pyrotechnics, debates often rage among Filipinos as to which date—June 12, 1898 or July 4, 1946—marks the Philippines’ true independence.