354 Just to let you know, then I’ll shut up. The red-faced man spoke Tagalog. The original goes: “May karapatan ho kayo sa inyong unawa, dijo el hombre . . .” (Trans. Note)
355 Milagros que no fue milagrosa. A running paronomasia, especially with names, continues in the text. (Trans. Note)
356 La otra cholera: syphilis. An outbreak of venereal disease in the late 1800s was a matter of concern especially in the Spanish arsenals and military forts. (Trans. Note)
357 “Fuera de los cabrones en su colegio.” The uncle penned various comments on the young rebels of Manila, all of which now lie in ash, it seems. (Trans. Note)
358 Most reliable about historical Narrative are its gaps. No one much accounts for the thoughts of rebels’ families. We understand that Doña Teodora Alonso, mother of Rizal, deplored her son’s “irreligious’”views and would have been happy to see him retract them. She disapproved of his extra-marital relationship with the Irish orphan, Josephine Bracken. Her son Paciano joined the revolution and two of her daughters were members of the Katipunan. But I have yet to read what devout Teodora Alonso thought of the Revolution. From the documents that remain, for all we know every single Filipino went off to raise that flag with the loving help of his family. It is likely that many had divided thoughts: conservatism is often the mark of mothers. (Dr. Diwata Drake, Trece Martires, Cavite)
359 Are you suggesting, you blonde apostate, that the mother of the hero, thus Mother of the Revolution, might not have been for the war? What paucity of heart and insight! Of course everyone was for the war! Of course everyone wanted to beat the Spaniards and raise the flag of Philippine independence! Why else did we not keep fighting when—up till when again did we keep fighting? (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
360 After the military disasters in Manila, and the brief glories in Cavite, the heroes retreated to Biak-na-Bato in November 1897—diminished in arms, in fighting men, and even in the regard of certain towns (remember the citizens of places such as Tanza who sided with the Spaniards; remember also the hundreds of Filipino Guardia Civil foot soldiers who remained under the Spanish flag; remember Filipinos who hid and rescued their Spanish priests; and how about the provinces that did not join the war?; etc. etc.). It makes sense that the Narrative ignores these gaps, as an author might downplay episodes that do not propel his themes. We construct history from desire. This is not novel. We prefer not to know that the war was a battle for people’s hearts as much as a revolution against the colonial order; we prefer to ignore that the people’s hearts were part of that order. But to acknowledge it perhaps puts the act in perspective and defines the scale of rebel struggle. It highlights that heroism you cherish. (Dr. Diwata Drake, Trece Martires, Cavite)
361 Please, Estrella and Diwata, can’t we just read? His personal account is filling in, as you call them, the gaps—can’t we just read? (Trans. Note)
362 In the text, by the way, it’s clear that the young apprentice created a disastrous hybrid of cartero (mailman) with carnero (billy sheep), so suffering the consequences. (Trans. Note)
363 Sssh! (Estrella Espejo, ditto) (Dr. Diwata Drake, Trece Martires, Cavite)
364 Now called La Loma. Raymundo prophetically refers to Rizal’s preferred burial place, a deathbed request rather monumentally ignored. (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
365 This dorsal view, unpunctuated, abruptly ends what I consider the second volume of the quartet of the hero’s memorias. Who knows what scenes were shaved and shorn, as the sound-mad hero might say? And as the latter papers, though a bit disheveled, continue to weave a skein of detail and at times achieve a winsome alchemical design, if I say so myself, I suggest silence in the margins where possible. Please avoid irrelevant discussion. (Trans. Note)
366 Speak for yourself. When your heart is in the right place, nothing is irrelevant! (Estrella Espejo, ditto)
Part Three
Blind Man’s Bluff
In which the hero toils with printers—Receives a visit from Miong—Plays limbo with secret men—Experiences dèjá vu—Gains a servant—Reads a lot of magazines—Witnesses a duel—Oops, duel didn’t happen—Watches Tondo burn—Joins pilgrimage to Antipolo—Becomes a decoy duck—Helps a pair of divers—Meets a sweet stranger on a boat named Venus—Couples with an expert castrator—Eats a lot of paho—Measures himself against the hero—Is touched by the hero—Receives the hero’s diagnosis—Steals from Dapitan
Entry #25
March (1896?)
I got the telegram from Miong when I arrived home from work at the Diario. Yes, reader, I was still in Manila. As I prepared to set off for Kawit, my bags packed and heart not so whole, the cholera quarantine in the provinces against those in the city sent us all back into its bowels. I had to return, then I stayed. I found a different boarding house, this time in the arrabales, in the shadows of the mansions of Anloague. With my friends dispersed to different occupations, some in the provinces, some to Europe, my life lapsed into tedious rhythm. I don’t know why I kept putting off the university: as I said, I was in a funk. Months passed, and the ships to Cavite came and left: I did not return.
Drudgery in the printing shop was all I could do, and it suited my moribund ways. And anyway, as my uncle says, always trying to make me feel better, of what use are wisdom and scholarly habits when all they get one are the garrote and banditry in Mount Buntis? My uncle’s advice is steeped in the gall of the past, like a teabag. His letters overflow with the gloom
