It was an accident. Our islands just happened to be in the way of Spain's
overwhelming quest for spices and profits; they came ashore, they colonized
us, and they stayed for almost 400 years.
Below, is a truly enthralling historical tidbit, a glimpse of Spain's
rule sadto, quoted almost verbatim from the compelling book In Our
Image, America's Empire in the Philippines, by Stanley Karnow.
"Travel around the provinces," observed a 17th century Spanish official, "and
you will see populations of five, ten, or twenty thousand indios ruled in
peace by one old man (the padre) who, with his doors open at all hours,
sleeps secure in his dwelling." The rural friars never numbered more than a
thousand at any one time, yet the padre, true to the term, was the father
figure throughout the countryside. Spanish officials came and went, but the
clergy stayed. Over a 25-year period in the 19th century, 16 Spanish governors
served in Manila -- compared to only 2 archbishops.
The priests learned the local languages and adapted to local customs. Some
abandoned their vows of celibacy and sired children by native women. Many upper
class Filipinos today, for whom Spanish blood is a mark of distinction, proudly
evoke a clerical ancestor (pwerte ka ta-od ngani Butuan do-on ang ga gikan
hong semilya hong mga pari). Sinabaldo de Mas contemplated such trespasses
with Latin indulgence: "Though it may appear evil, the offense is most
excusable, especially in young and healthy men set down in a torrid climate.
(yati ra ! kung bata pa toni ang pari, patsa-ong madyaw ang panglawas niya,
mapasaylo toni kong maka boros siya; dugang pa, masaa sab toni ang kapaso
hong panahon ngani.)
Added de Mas, "The garb of the native women is very seductive, and girls far
from being unattainable regard themselves as lucky to attract the attention of
the curate, and their mothers and fathers share that sentiment." (ha? amo ba?
conspiracy hong daga iban ang tatay ug nanay niya, biktima lang ang pari nga
mika boros? saa hong daga nga mi borosan kai kuno ga pa sexy siya hong kaba?)
The friar exercised power through a staggering panoply of functions. He audited
the parish budget, conducted the census, registered the residents, directed the
tax board, managed health and public works projects, screened recruits for
military service, presided over the police and reviewed conditions at the local
jail. He could banish people without trial and veto decisions of the native
administration, which in any case would not act without his assent. Most of
all, he oversaw education and religion. (siya ang tinuod nga gobyerno sadto;
dakwa kai isab ang utang ta hong mga kapari-an.)
Shortly after their arrival, monastic orders founded universities and colleges
in Manila -- among them Santo Tomas, which dates back to 1601 and still
operates. For centuries, these institutions admitted only young Spaniards
training for the clergy. Rural schools for the natives, by contrast, were
usually simple affairs run by friars, themselves simple men of peasant origin
versed in only a few sacred subjects. They taught the catechism and the lives
of saints, recited in unison and heavily dosed in discipline.
The friars conducted the classes in local tongues, on the principle that
fluency in Spanish would make the indios uppity and arrogant. "Experience has
taught us," asserted a Spanish official "that those who know our language are
almost always the most headstrong, the ones who talk behind our back, criticize
and rebel." (amo-amo ba ini nga taktika used today by some government leaders
kuno who keep our people poor and consequently subservient, according to some
wags.)
Hence, Filipinos, unlike Latin Americans, never became a Spanish-speaking
people. Nor were large numbers truly educated under Spain's rule.
For 300 years, young natives repeated the same religious routine that Juan
Francisco de San Antonio, a Franciscan friar, described in the 16th century:
Daily without exception, at the sound of the bell, all the children promptly
assemble in the church. The little choristers led by the choir master intone
the Te Deum, ending with the versicle and prayer to the Most Holy Trinity, then
sing prime of the Little Office of the Blessed Mother. There follows the
conventional mass, after which the boys recite the rosary. Then they file out
behind a small processional cross to attend school, while the choristers retire
to practice. Two stokes of the bell signal the end of classes, and everyone
goes home for lunch. At two o'clock, the bell sounds for vespers, and the
children, back in church, again chant the Little Office of the Blessed Mother.
They then go to their assigned duties until five o'clock, when a very
devotional procession forms in the church and winds through town, reciting the
rosary. This concludes in the church with litanies, the antiphon of the
Immaculate Conception of the Mother of God, and a responsory for the blessed
souls of Purgatory.
Weekends were more rigorous. On Saturdays, the
children prayed and chanted steadily from morning until night, so that, San
Antonio noted with approval, they would not forget what they had learned by
rote. The entire town would join in on Sunday to celebrate mass and to hear the
priest deliver his sermon, invariably an admonition to obey God and the Word of
Christ.
{ Remember the days when, during Good Friday of
Lent, like last week, our parents admonished that we should not laugh, play,
talk loudly, bath, chop firewood, handle sharp instruments, work, travel,
appear happy, or sing, because the Lord is dead ? One wonders if those
admonitions were handed down from generation to generation to generation for
300 years. Three centuries of repetetive chants ! )
FROM: IN OUR IMAGE, AMERICA'S EMPIRE IN THE PHILIPPINES, STANLEY KARNOW, BALLANTINE BOOKS / RANDOM HOUSE, 1989.
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