By Eli J. Obligacion, 1996
Excerpt from Scene 1:
KORO:
“Marso a-cuatro 1897, isang gabing madilim
Nang ang casa ng bayan ay kanilang lusubin
Walang nakatanggi, wala ring pumigil
Kanilang kaaway, kanilang siniil.
Bagaman at salat sa de-putok na armas
Ay lumusob silang matindi ang dahas
Sa tindi ng poot na balot ang dibdib
Sa pinaslang na nila’y ni walang tumangis!
Wala pang nakita sa tangi kong pulo
Ng gan-on kasukdulang tapang at kilabot
Ang poot ng Kapitang lagablab ay sulo
Sa lahat ng panig ng pulo’y umabot.”
Above is a brief poetic narrative of an event that happened in Sta. Cruz, Marinduque referring to an episode that transpired there on March 4, 1897, during the first-phase of the Philippine Revolution. The Casa Real was attacked by the local revolutionary force headed by “Kapitan Bindoy”.
The koro verse was part of a Tagalog play I was commissioned to write by PRRM’s Marinduque Area Manager, Trina Malaga, in 1996, to be presented during the opening program of “Daupan II Festival” for the Centennial of the Philippine Revolution (Gasan, 1996). “Daupan” was a gathering of popular educators from all over the country promoting “pop-ed” theories and practices as tools for people empowerment.
Based on research writings from the towns of Boac, Mogpog and Sta. Cruz I’ve gathered before, “Mis Lagrimas a Ti” was conceptualized. It was not too hard to write the script for I had become familiar, somehow, with the local story. Or so, I thought.
The play was an exploration of the revolutionary struggle in Marinduque during the Philippine-Spanish War, seen through the eyes of a fictional character, “Ilyong”. Ilyong was supposedly a tambolero, drummer, from Cavite who joined the Marinduque forces after being sent on a mission to this island by Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo. Such a character was necessary because up to that time, I could not find any link between the leader of the revolutionary force, Kapitan Bindoy, and Aguinaldo nor Bonifacio.
Thus began the character, Ilyong’s, meetings with the local revolutionists Hermenegildo Flores (Kapitan Bindoy) of Sta. Cruz, Remigio Medina (Ka Mio) of Torrijos, Cayetano Vida (Alapaap), Don Martin Lardizabal of Boac, Fabian Medenilla of Mogpog and others.
The plot was really not much different from the other small stories of the revolution where heroes are made for their fierce love of country and pursuit of aspirations even with their lives at stake.
The story ends with Ilyong’s account of the dramatic killing of Kapitan Bindoy and Ka Mio, to the final departure from the island of the last of the Spanish cazadores and the islanders’ triumph in finding freedom for the first time.
(“Mis Lagrimas” was directed by Jonjon Tuazon of PETA (Philippine Educational Theater Association), with a cast composed of selected students from Immaculate Conception College in Boac. The following year, the script was revised and entered as an entry to a regional performing arts competition held in San Juan, Batangas, also in relation to the Philippine centennial celebration. Under the title “Himagsik ng Budhi” the play with students from Marinduque National High School in its cast was adjudged second runner-up).
I thought my interludes with the Marinduque revolutionists ended there, for most of the materials I had collected, including my own writings, had disappeared over the years – some destroyed by the elements, others stolen. Realizing the painstaking task of reconstructing what has been written after long, sleepless nights of sifting through and analyzing old documents and torn pages, the hard work of local town historians, I just had to give up the idea of doing research all over again.
Recently however, in connection with the 109th Anniversary of the Battle of Pulang Lupa, I thought it was time to engage in new research on the said battle’s local hero, Col. Maximo Abad in the Internet. This medium was not yet around here then. (see post dated Aug. 31, 2009, Tracing the footsteps of Col. Maximo Abad)).
In the process, I chanced upon some familiar names. The one that struck me was the name “Hermenegildo Flores”.
Several websites delving into history credit Flores for having been one poet who, in 1888 wrote “Hibik ng Filipinas sa Inang Espana” (Lament of Filipinas to Mother Spain). This stirring poem, then drew a longer response after a year from Marcelo del Pilar, the Filipino propagandist. Del Pilar wrote from Barcelona his 82 quatrains entitled “Ang Sagot ng Espana sa Hibik ng Pilipinas” (Spain's Reply To Filipinas' Lament), and smuggled it into the Philippines.
Seven years later, the Great Plebeian himself, Andres Bonifacio, he who led the Katipunan in the revolution that was to finally sever the relationship between Spain and the Philippines, would write his rejoinder to the work of Flores and del Pilar.
“Ang Katapusang Hibik nang Pilipinas sa Ynang Espana” (The Last Lament of FIlipina to Mother Spain), was Bonifacio’s response, a cold and direct address to “inang pabaya’t sukaban” (negligent and malevolent mother), and “inang walang habag” (merciless mother).
So, look now. Flores poured out his lamentations, del Pilar responded, and Bonifacio expressed his judgment and resolve. By fate’s design, their poetical triad that appealed to the masa, also helped inspire the staging of the Philippine Revolution?
Much has been written about the lives of Marcelo H. del Pilar and Andres Bonifacio for they’re foremost in the list of national heroes that we, Filipinos, have become so familiar with from grade school.
But Hermenegildo Flores? No biography of him appears anywhere. He is somewhat treated merely as an obscure poet, albeit one ilustrado, whose contribution in the struggle was as initiator of the first of three poems that comprised the historic poetic triad.
One book source states “we do not possess much biographical data of Hermenegildo Flores, a poet of Bulacan...” (The Literature of the Pilipinos: A Survey, 1965, by J.V. Panganiban, C. T. Panganiban, p. 165). All other Internet search finds echo the same thing and nothing more.
One account went as far as saying “Flores, far from following the beaten path, chose others...and translated works of practical application to the education of the masses...”. He is credited for a translated work, “Ang Anghel at ang Diablo” (“The Revolutionists: Aguinaldo, Bonifacio, Jacinto”, by Epifanio delos Santos, p. 164).
But, “far from following the beaten path”?
The big question therefore is: Is Hermenegildo Flores, poet from Bulacan, one and the same person as my Hermenegildo Flores, the revolutionist from Sta. Cruz? Were they merely namesakes (there’s at least another one from Mexico)?
And ‘Bulacan’? For me, that rang a bell. I had the opportunity to meet the elderly local historian from Sta. Cruz, Saturnino Rogelio, again in 1997. (A year earlier he lent me his manuscript, “History of Santa Cruz”, from where I first learned about the attack on the Sta. Cruz Casa Real staged by Flores on March 4, 1897). I asked the historian if he knew things about Flores other than those he wrote, like, where he originally came from; were there any surviving relatives that he knew of, matters not contained in the historical account. (My drama script just assumed he was a Marinduque native because of an account that he lived and set up his camp in Napo, Sta. Cruz).
“Taga labas, sa Bulacan galing”, was all the good historian could add.
But that, obviously, is hardly sufficient to make a conclusion. One must find other sources, more links, more clues, but again, finding them could perhaps be a never-ending process.
Yet, I couldn’t leave the puzzle open ended. And because I’ve suddenly been gripped with much curiosity and a sense of unique challenge, must find a way somehow to satisfy those questions.
I have cried and grieved quietly in secret for Kapitan Bindoy, mis lagrimas a ti. Succeeding in finding answers, thus, I could in the end, happily lay everything to rest. (to be continued)
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