Supremo: The Maragondon Trip (Part 1)

History repeats itself 

There are many things that look ugly in our past; nothing is perfect. With all the shadows lurking in it and the schemes and bloodshed. Such is our past, the pages of history drip with blood and gore. Last 10th of May, out of respect for a man so misunderstood and so ignored by our people, the hero called Andres "Maypagasa" Bonifacio, and rode a bus from my Bacoor home to Maragondon; a place terribly uncharted for me and is the site of the trial and execution of Bonifacio.

Mini busses always ply this small route that travels between the two cities, separated by long highways and mountains. With the small number of these busses, I had to wait for a long to ride a bus and to let it be filled with an adequate number of passengers. SM City Bacoor, as I would learn later on, was one of the boarding areas of those air-conditioned busses.

Years ago or rather decades ago, when there were no mini busses and barkers wearing campaign vests with names of politicians, people would either walk on forested roads or ride horses and caribous. I thought about the journey Bonifacio took from his quarters in what was once the suburbs of Manila, that fateful trail that led him to his death. I wonder, what did go on his mind when he walked/rode from there to the city I'm headed for?

In 1897, he was called to settle the dispute of the Magdiwangs and the Magdalos. Both were factions of one group led by the Supremo. But the results of that meeting that sealed his fate was disastrous, a stain that would forever echo down the pages of history. In Naik, in the friar estate house, Bonifacio nulled the results of the elections due to the parties not complying with the rules he himself have set and of the rampant cheating then; with ballots filled up before the elections.

I missed my bus stop, I walked from the welcome arc of Ternate to the Municipality of Maragondon, the streets filled with names and pictures of smiling people wishing for a seat to govern the people. I wonder, did the people of 1897 do the same for that Naik election? Did promises of power and bribes mar then as now the elections of that time? Alas, the whispers of the past are muted slowly.

Maragondon, with its sunny heat and cool winds, led me to the trial hose of Bonifacio; a place away from the city square. 

The house where Bonifacio was court martialed

The doors were open, so I peeked inside, the bronze lion-head knocker stared at me as I did so. The room, dark with wood and metal windows, had flowers from officials and exhibits that explained the life of Bonifacio. I climbed up, with no one interrupting me or any curator leading me. I relished the idea that decades ago he himself climbed these steps and that I am seeing the place where he once stood... this testament to the injustice of our society that reigns up to now. 

The wooden planks, new from how it looked in contrast with the log posts, shone bright with the sun. I peeked at each room, looked at the art and listened to visitors (a couple and their kid) talk and take pictures. The sound of the kids below banging and jumping above a campaign car unison filled the hallow halls of the shrine. The curator, who was sitting in one office, talked to me about how Oriang (the wife of Bonifacio) searched the mountains of Maragondon for her beloved for a month. 

I pitied her, then, seeing her sculpted in a scene of the trial as she listened to her husband being condemned for crimes he did not commit. The curator himself believed that, according to a folk tale, Oriang looked for Bonifacio with a companion. Our talks, of me and the curator, led to him giving me flyers of the Historical Commission and to join their contests and him telling me of how Bonifacio is very much dismissed by most people. I left, taking pics of the house and the politician's car with the kids flashing an FU sign, smiling as if they knew fully well the history of the house they played in.

From there, I walked to the city square and on to the church. Aged by the centuries, it has withstood the fiercest of storms and faced the most interesting stories and intrigues of the citizens of its land. The church was a sentinel, closed as it faced the heat of the sun and faced the old-house and tree-lined roads of the town. 

A National Heritage, the church has undergone a terrible lot of renovations; including the plastering of its bell tower.

The afternoon being hours away, I just loathed the plaster and took pictures of the outside as the heat beat down on me. The whole town had this province feel that most parts of the province has fought to maintain from the jaws of industrialization. Moving on, the door is one of the most admired feature of the wonderful church. 

Beside the church, as in most churches throughout the archipelago, a school owned and managed by the parish stands. It also has this old world charm that is so fragile and so important and yet so frequently destroyed by people I could never understand.

A meal after, I journeyed to the Bonifacio shrine in the mountains. 

And on my way, as unexpected as it is, I found a working well beside the road: with water and plants inside it. Asking around for the directions going to the shrine was not that difficult, what was more tiring was hearing how everyone says that it is too far and that I should ride a motorcycle. I refused the all, knowing by heart that the motorcycle fares are much too high for the average traveler. 

All the asking and walking lead me to this

A long hanging bridge that spanned the whole river! It creaked and swayed as I walked, fueling my fears of it snapping and falling to the waiting river. I even encountered people crossing it, making the whole trip a difficult and dizzying one.

Amid the asking, the hot trails and the nature noises I found my way upwards; to homes and streets that led up the mountains. The roads were cemented, making it more an easy trip to the shrine. I asked almost every one for directions, showing them an invitation with the picture of the monument on the mountain. One person, a woman who sold me a bottle of softdrinks, pointed me to a mountain trail that led to it; it is what they called a shortcut.

The dusty roads, with all its markings, was impassable to cars. A pleasant walk, the trees and the bamboo shoots make it an ideal nature walk for the earth-lover. It was terribly silent, with no one around and with the solitude of Mount Nagpatong acting as my companion. A sweaty distance away was a clearing, with a hut beside it and an old man walking, his bag slung on his back and with dogs following him.

Showing him the invitation, he led me there, telling me that he was the caretaker of the area and that no one was visiting the shrine; the very reason he decided to go home. Pity, I thought, no one even visited where the city remembers the death of him who once rallied the masses to revolt. It was near from there, with an entrance fee of twenty pesos: an act of pity on the cow-shit filled road...

And the Bamboo gates that locked a portion of the trail, which we can quickly just pull out. The guide told me about how little the number of people were visiting the shrine lately, and from the neglect of the roads that lead to it I could clearly see that even the locals don't give much ado over this place.

Metal gates, which he quickly unlocked, closed the last part of the road that led to the shrine. It had two features: The marker-monument and the reception area.

The latter is more neglected than the monument. Mostly unused, there were function halls and offices inside the reception building that faced the monument.

The guide left me to walk there. The monument, known but not that visited, had this massive marble walls and bronze sculptures of the revolution, the life of Bonifacio and his fateful demise in the very mountains that we walked that formed the words BAYANI (Hero) and KKK, which is the shortened version of the society that he and his companions founded.

He stands, his brother dead at his feet, defiant...

Which is in every way contradictory to the stories; the other ones -- with him lying in a hammock before he was brutally killed.

Beyond that, the halls fronting the monument had pools for public use: unused and dirty.

It was a pity the facilities are neglected.

As I left the shrine, among all things, I saw this fire tree. It must be symbolic... but I saw it as a symbol of the men that shed their blood for the nation; the blood that trickled out of Bonifacio's stab wounds years ago on this very mountain.




End of Part One of Supremo: The Maragondon Trip

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The Manila Post Office

A gem.

Years ago, according to my teacher, she used to recall the long lines that the post office had every Christmas, mostly friends and family members who had loved ones in abroad. Before the rise of technological advancements in Manila, the post was the life-blood of communication and business during those crucial years. It was a gem, making "talking" with relatives and acquaintances a happy possibility for an era where text messaging was nothing more than an object of one's sci-fi read.

Before and, especially, after the war the influx of a need to connect with other people was met by mail. My family was a witness to the transition of mail to electronic mail, with my father being a maritime man and my parent's grandparents living in Japan the number of mail we received was fairly big -- with my dad's collection of stamps and TB stubs counting among them Japanese stamps.

Comics of the 1990s still make the passing remark of the tradition of having "pen pals" and joke about them, how people still try to find friendship and love through mail, there was even a time when, in a bid of advertising and looking for anyone to talk to, people would write to magazines to have their names and addresses printed in the Pen Pal corner of the magazine. Some even write their addresses on paper bills, hoping that they'll find decent people to talk to on the mail.

But, with the march of progress, the numbers dwindled and the lines gradually decreased. The once large crowds that flock to the post office decreased to a few who still clamor for a classic form of what is now called "art." We became one of the patrons of the first internet cafes in Escoda and would usually send electronic greeting cards to our father. The physical cards and letters changed to nothing more than electronic data as memories of an era full of mail got stacked into my desk along with Philippines 2000 booklets on mail and my book on Philippine Stamps.

In the Christmas season of 2012, I went to the Post Office to mail one letter to Adam Young (Owl City) in Minnesota, where I received from him some signed album covers and a stamp from MN. It was my first time in there, with only a few people sending Christmas wishes in there, but the structure captured my imagination as I wonder about its past, beyond the stinking fountain and the smelly informal settler land, it was still a gem.

Sporting a neoclassical design similar to most, if not all, of the government structures built during that period. Designed by Juan M. Arellano, the post office is home to the head office of Philippine Postal Corporation, commonly known by its nickname "Philpost" by people.

The office was a witness to the passing times; Built besides the Pasig River during a time when that watery arm that connects Laguna De Bai and Manila Bay was used as a major waterway and boats were a mode of transportation, destroyed by the war between the Americans and the Japanese before being restored to its former glory just when the nation is beginning to stand up again on its feet and its wobbly members is still in need of a way to connect with family and friends.

It faces the Liwasang Bonifacio which, too, had a whole too many name changes in the past. It was once called Plaza Arrocerros during the Spanish era and it was the first home of the statue of the Queen of Spain, Isabel II. Then, with the tide that swept the Americans and brought forth a new change to Manila the plaza was re-christianized and named after Gen. Henry Ware Lawton, the highest ranking casualty in the war with the Filipinos. Busses and jeeps still now the place as "Lawton" even after more than six decades since it was re-named as a fitting honor to one of the notable sons of Manila: Andres Bonifacio.

It was a witness to the intrigue that surrounded and soon destroyed the reputation of the corporation as issues of missing mail and money orders grew large and spread like wildfire into the whole of the nation... a big set back to the only thing that once connected the many islands of the archipelago. The corporation still has a long way to go to bring back and gather the trust of the people they are serving.

Stamps: A mirror

Philately records the many faces of the country and the world, giving a mirror into what was and what is. In celebration of many things like the inauguration of a new president or the passing of a law. After some time, the government even used the stamps themselves to promote the main projects of the government, lauding praise for the president. They also commemorate anniversaries and give honor to men and women who were leading figures in the history of the Philippines and those that shaped the course of the future.

Then it featured nationalism, themes that delved into nature and the arts. The stamps themselves become an art form so elegant and worth collecting, just as many men of before and now still continue this glorious past time of collecting stamps.

The Post Office itself houses a whole collection of stamps, a small sample of a wonderful art in print. But the museum itself was clearly unattractive and unkept. The whole exhibit was dark, with none of the adequate lighting expected of museums of such wonderful specimens. It was hot, having viewed this place in summer, and it had no adequate air conditioning. Banes for any tourist, the exhibit itself would have attracted tourists if it had it made known to the tourism world and placed it in a more attractive space, one that does not go to a random building full of dust.

One other thing that I found quite... well... annoying is the fact that they had no labels. At least not all of the items. Which leaves any visitor to the museum wondering what is what. It would have been better, of course, if it had tourist guides to explain the fascinating story behind each item. But,alas, this is too much of a dream for them too accomplish.

In my opinion, the Philippine Post Office must;

a. Organize a tour of the whole structure

This would mean more people, students and foreigners alike, will find interest in the Post Office and would therefore have some of the budget from the fees collected from the organized tours of the facility. It should be really publicized so that even schools would op to visiting this historically-significant place rather than some mall.

b. Re-locate the exhibit

Or at the very least, add air conditioning and add lighting and labels to all of the items concerned. Why? AN exhibit will fascinate anyone, making them curious about stamps. In the end, it will even attract the youth to collect stamps and that will in turn be business for the post office. The place where the museum is located in its present condition, I'm sorry to say, is hardly attractive. If anything, it repels people, looking like a haunted house and whatnot.

c. Remove the squatters surrounding Liwasang Bonifacio

Seriously. They ward off people.

d. Promote a new image of the Philpost/re-update the website

The people are more on the web, so what better way of attracting attention and providing information than by posting info on the web? This, and some options regarding alternative ways to purchase stamps and to have them mailed to anyone interested will be a great boost for the world of Philately and the Post Office. 

If only they could do that, well, let's just say that this gem has hope of getting polished once more.

Afternote:

Mr. Lawrence Chan and the Filipinas Stamp Collectors' Club have a monthly tour of the Manila Post Office and other locations for free (plus donations and museum fees). It is guaranteed to be the most awesome tour of the city. 

For more info, please contact:

Mrs. Josie Tiongson – Cura – ( 0917-9800708 / GLOBE )
Everyday -preferably office hours

Mr. Lawrence Chan – ( 0919-3901671) anytime preferably 7:00am to past 10PM Email:L_rence_2003@yahoo.com.
Mr. Rey Ong De Jesus- Education and Exhibition
(577-1297) Monday to Saturday 8am to 5pm only

SOUTH BIKE fully supports any inquiries on the facts noted on this page or for any question regarding this article, the pictures and other materials on this blog. All pictures are property of South Bike and Midsummer Daydreams Film & Photography and may be used for any non-profit material, post and/or article.