I Am a Filipino

I am a Filipino - inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain

future. As such I must prove equal to a two-fold task- the task of meeting
my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my obligation to
the future. I sprung from a hardy race - child of many generations removed
of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the centuries, the memory comes
rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that
were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come,
borne upon the billowing wave and the whistling wind, carried upon the
mighty swell of hope- hope in the free abundance of new land that was to
be their home and their childrens forever. This is the land they sought and
found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and
mountain that beckoned to them with a green and purple invitation, every
mile of rolling plain that their view encompassed, every river and lake that
promise a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of commerce, is a hollowed
spot to me. By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law,
human and divine, this land and all the appurtenances thereof - the black
and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming with fish, the forests
with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and timber, the mountains with
their bowels swollen with minerals - the whole of this rich and happy land
has been, for centuries without number, the land of my fathers. This land I
received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so
on
until
the
world
no
more.
I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes - seed that
flowered down the centuries in deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins
yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapulapu to battle against the alien
foe that drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign
oppressor. That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in
the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in Bagumbayan when a volley of shots
put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit deathless
forever; the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of
Gergorio del Pilar at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed
in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and
yet burst fourth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when
he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacaang Palace, in the
symbolic act of possession and racial vindication. The seed I bear within me
is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol of dignity as
a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of
Tutankhamen many thousand years ago, it shall grow and flower and bear

fruit again. It is the insigne of my race, and my generation is but a stage in

the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness. I am a
Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its
languor and mysticism, its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and
my sire was the West that came thundering across the seas with the Cross
and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an eager participant in its
struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that the
East must awake from its centuried sleep, shape of the lethargy that has
bound
his
limbs,
and
start
moving
where
destiny
awaits.
For, I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have
destroyed forever the peace and quiet that once were ours. I can no longer
live, being apart from those world now trembles to the roar of bomb and
cannon shot. For no man and no nation is an island, but a part of the main,
there is no longer any East and West - only individuals and nations making
those momentous choices that are hinges upon which history resolves. At
the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand - a forlorn figure in
the eyes of some, but not one defeated and lost. For through the thick,
interlacing branches of habit and custom above me I have seen the light of
the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light of justice and
equality and freedom and my heart has been lifted by the vision of
democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my people shall have
been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert
or
destroy.
I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I
may prove worthy of my inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come
ringing down the corridors of the centuries, and it shall be compounded of
the joyous cries of my Malayan forebears when they first saw the contours
of this land loom before their eyes, of the battle cries that have resounded
in every field of combat from Mactan to Tirad pass, of the voices of my
people
when
they
sing:
Land of the Morning, Child of the sun returning Neer shall invaders
Trample thy sacred shore. Out of the lush green of these seven thousand
isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen million people all vibrating to one
song, I shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge. Out of the songs of the
farmers at sunrise when they go to labor in the fields; out of the sweat of
the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-ig and Koronadal; out of the silent
endurance of stevedores at the piers and the ominous grumbling of
peasants Pampanga; out of the first cries of babies newly born and the
lullabies that mothers sing; out of the crashing of gears and the whine of
turbines in the factories; out of the crunch of ploughs upturning the earth;

out of the limitless patience of teachers in the classrooms and doctors in

the clinics; out of the tramp of soldiers marching, I shall make the pattern of
my pledge: I am a Filipino born of freedom and I shall not rest until
freedom shall have been added unto my inheritance - for myself and my
childrens children - forever.
Reflection
The lesson that Ive learned in this piece is that we should be proud being a
Filipino. We are the product of the sacrifices of our ancestors. We should be
proud being a Filipino because we are a fighter. We fight for what is right. We
fight for our family. This country is full of mysteries, full of stories that we
should be proud of. We should be proud being a Filipino because our blood
runs the immortal seed of heroes- a seed that has courage and defiance. The
symbol of dignity runs in our blood. We should be proud being a Filipino and
we should take responsible for our country. Its bow our chance and
responsibility to take care of this blessing which is our country. Do everything
to make it better for the future FILIPINO.
THE STRANGER

Meursault, the narrator, is a young man living in Algiers. After receiving a

telegram informing him of his mothers death, he takes a bus to Marengo,
where his mother had been living in an old persons home. He sleeps for
almost the entire trip. When he arrives, he speaks to the director of the
home. The director allows Meursault to see his mother, but Meursault finds
that her body has already been sealed in the coffin. He declines the
caretakers offer to open the coffin. That night, Meursault keeps vigil over his
mothers body. Much to his displeasure, the talkative caretaker stays with
him the whole time. Meursault smokes a cigarette, drinks coffee, and dozes
off. The next morning, before the funeral, he meets with the director again.
The director informs him that Thomas Perez, an old man who had grown very
close to Meursaults mother, will be attending the funeral service. The
funeral procession heads for the small local village, but Perez has difficulty
keeping up and eventually faints from the heat. Meursault reports that he
remembers little of the funeral. That night, he happily arrives back in Algiers.
The next day, Meursault goes to the public beach for a swim. There, he runs
into Marie Cardona, his former co-worker. The two make a date to see a
comedy at the movie theater that evening. After the movie they spend the

night together. When Meursault wakes up, Marie is gone. He stays in bed
until noon and then sits on his balcony until evening, watching the people
pass on the street. The following day, Monday, Meursault returns to work. He
has lunch with his friend Emmanuel and then works all afternoon. While
walking upstairs to his apartment that night, Meursault runs into Salamano,
an old man who lives in his building and owns a mangy dog. Meursault also
runs into his neighbor, Raymond Sintes, who is widely rumored to be a pimp.
Raymond invites Meursault over for dinner. Over the meal, Raymond
recounts how he beat up his mistress after he discovered that she had been
cheating on him. As a result, he got into a fight with her brother. Raymond
now wants to torment his mistress even more, but he needs Meursault to
write a letter to lure his mistress back to him. Meursault agrees and writes
the letter that night. The following Saturday, Marie visits Meursault at his
apartment. She asks Meursault if he loves her, and he replies that it didnt
mean anything, but probably not. The two then hear shouting coming from
Raymonds apartment. They go out into the hall and watch as a policeman
arrives. The policeman slaps Raymond and says that he will be summoned to
the police station for beating up his mistress. Later, Raymond asks Meursault
to testify on his behalf, and Meursault agrees. That night, Raymond runs into
Salamano, who laments that his dog has run away. Marie asks Meursault if he
wants to marry her. He replies indifferently but says that they can get
married if she wants to, so they become engaged. The following Sunday,
Meursault, Marie, and Raymond go to a beach house owned by Masson, one
of Raymonds friends. They swim happily in the ocean and then have lunch.
That afternoon, Masson, Raymond, and Meursault run into two Arabs on the
beach, one of whom is the brother of Raymonds mistress. A fight breaks out
and Raymond is stabbed. After tending to his wounds, Raymond returns to
the beach with Meursault. They find the Arabs at a spring. Raymond
considers shooting them with his gun, but Meursault talks him out of it and
takes the gun away. Later, however, Meursault returns to the spring to cool
off, and, for no apparent reason, he shoots Raymonds mistresss brother.
Meursault is arrested and thrown into jail. His lawyer seems disgusted at
Meursaults lack of remorse over his crime, and, in particular, at Meursaults
lack of grief at his mothers funeral. Later, Meursault meets with the
examining magistrate, who cannot understand Meursaults actions. The
magistrate brandishes a crucifix and demands that Meursault put his faith in
God. Meursault refuses, insisting that he does not believe in God. The
magistrate cannot accept Meursaults lack of belief, and eventually dubs him
Monsieur Antichrist. One day, Marie visits Meursault in prison. She forces
herself to smile during the visit, and she expresses hope that Meursault will

be acquitted and that they will get married. As he awaits his trial, Meursault
slowly adapts to prison life. His isolation from nature, women, and cigarettes
torments him at first, but he eventually adjusts to living without them, and
soon does not even notice their absence. He manages to keep his mind
occupied, and he sleeps for most of each day. Meursault is taken to the
courthouse early on the morning of his trial. Spectators and members of the
press fill the courtroom. The subject of the trial quickly shifts away from the
murder to a general discussion of Meursaults character, and of his reaction
to his mothers death in particular. The director and several other people who
attended the vigil and the funeral are called to testify, and they all attest to
Meursaults lack of grief or tears. Marie reluctantly testifies that the day after
his mothers funeral she and Meursault went on a date and saw a comedic
movie. During his summation the following day, the prosecutor calls
Meursault a monster and says that his lack of moral feeling threatens all of
society. Meursault is found guilty and is sentenced to death by beheading.
Meursault returns to prison to await his execution. He struggles to come to
terms with his situation, and he has trouble accepting the certainty and
inevitability of his fate. He imagines escaping and he dreams of filing a
successful legal appeal. One day, the chaplain comes to visit against
Meursaults wishes. He urges Meursault to renounce his atheism and turn to
God, but Meursault refuses. Like the magistrate, the chaplain cannot believe
that Meursault does not long for faith and the afterlife. Meursault suddenly
becomes enraged, grabs the chaplain, and begins shouting at him. He
declares that he is correct in believing in a meaningless, purely physical
world. For the first time, Meursault truly embraces the idea that human
existence holds no greater meaning. He abandons all hope for the future and
accepts the gentle indifference of the world. This acceptance makes
Meursault feel happy.
Reflection
This novel explains what life really is. It shows the whole series of flows of
experiences of what man would encounter on his daily lives.
The first quarter of the novel is talking about home. Does Meursault show
some mourning, distress, sadness or bereavement to his mothers death? No,
he just attended his mothers funeral for the sake of culture and custom.
Why is he like this? Because, he labeled his home as only a structure. Only a
material infrastructure, that is, he can stay and relax all the time; just like an
apartment. But is not the very meaning of a home. A home is which ones
domestic affections are centered. A home is where someone is thinking

about you. Now, I know why Meursault was like that. Because, he had no
longer an emotional attachment to his mother; he doesnt care anymore
because he was very busy on his work and his career. Thats why I realized, I
must treasure my family. I must value the days we are together; attending
mass during Sundays, eating together during dinner, and hanging out when
we are in malls or somewhere else. For without this family, I am nothing like
an animal for because they taught me to become a human being by
educating me the GMRC (good manners and right conduct), to be polite and
respectful, and foremost, to be a strong man. Even though, there are men or
women who are obsessed from something like for some decorations or
whatsoever, try to look back and see what you are right now. Is it the things
that
your
home
wants
to
you?
The
answer
is
at
home.
The second quarter of the novel is talking about relationships. Meursault
goes swimming in the sea and meets a girl, Marie, whom he knows vaguely.
That evening they go to the cinema together to see a comedy; afterwards
they go back to Meursaults appartment to have sex. This is a real life event;
pre-marital sex is common now in the society. Teens are adventurous on their
lives and they let their desires to overcome their decisions. It is simple; men
want sex, women need love. Another is; the novel illustrates how friends will
affect our lives (when Meursault develops a relation with Sintes, a gangster).
It is fine to have good friends but we must pick true friends. Because the
difference between that two, is that, true friends will never leave you and
influence you with unwanted deeds.

LIKE THE MOLAVE I (1940)

By: Rafael Zulueta da Costa
Not yet, Rizal, not yet. Sleep not in peace;
There are a thousand waters to be spanned;
There are a thousand mountains to be crossed;
There are a thousand cross to be borne.
Our shoulders are not strong; our sinews are
Grown flaccid with dependence, smug with ease
Under anothers wing. Rest not in peace;

Not yet, Rizal, not yet. The land has need

Of young blood and, what younger than your own,
Forever spilled in the great name of freedom.
Forever oblate on the altar of
The free? Not you alone, Rizal. O souls
And spirits of the martyred brave - arise!
Arise and scour the land! Shed once again
Your willing blood! Infuse the vibrant red
Into our thin anemic veins; until
We pick up your Promethean tools and strong,
Out of the depthless matrix of your faith
In us, and on the silent cliffs of freedom,
We carve, for all time your marmoreal dream!
Until our people, seeing, are become
Like the Molave, firm, resilient, staunch
Rising on the hillside, unafraid,
Strong in its own fiber; yes, like the Molave!

Reflection
The main interpretation of the Filipino poem Like the Molave is one regarding
how the people of the Philippines must work to make the nation stronger.
The poem states that a region of the Philippines - Rizal - cannot yet rest, as
there is still much work to be done to make the area successful. At the
beginning of the poem, the poet outlines how the Philippines is dependent on
other nations, and must work towards becoming independent in the future in
order to support its citizens. Like The Molave also highlights the importance
of the younger generation, and how they must fight for their country and
improve the Filipino way of living. The poet believes this will grant the nation
freedom. Like The Molave also talks about heroes and how they inspire
regular Filipinos to be great themselves and join them on the quest to make

the Philippines a more prosperous place. The poem states that whilst many
Filipinos are achieving great things for their country, there is still much more
to be done and more residents must contribute to the efforts. In short, Like
the Molave is about inspiring the Filipino nation to improve their country and
make it self-sufficient.

Filipino Christmas: The Longest Christmas in the World

by: Angela Nacpil

The Christmas season is one of the most celebrated holidays all throughout
the world. But among all other countries, there's nothing like celebrating
Christmas in the Philippines. In fact, it is in this country that Christmas is
celebrated the longest. As soon as the month of September steps in, people
in the Philippines starts to clean up and ready their Christmas decorations.
When you go shopping at the mall, you would start to hear Christmas songs
played on stores. Not only will you hear Christmas carols, you would start to
see Christmas ornaments or flowers go on early sale for the season. There
are a lot of tradition that comes with celebrating the Christmas season in the
Philippines which also explains why they prepare for this event early on. It's a
common tradition to give lavishly on this season because Filipinos believe
that when you give, you get more blessings in return. So buying books or
gifts for colleagues, friends, and family, or toys for children starts as early as
October. It's also the time of the year when Filipinos working overseas would
start to send goods for gift giving in the Philippines. The Noche Buena or the
Christmas feast that happens on the eve of December 24 also requires prior
preparation. Reservations for common Christmas staple such as lechon,
Christmas ham, Queso de Bola or cheese ball, and other ingredients for
special Filipino dishes served during this season are highly in demand so
people starts to buy them early as well. Not all Filipino families celebrate
Christmas in a traditional way though. While other families choose to go
home to their hometowns to be with their loved ones, some groups choose to
go someplace else to celebrate the holiday. So out of town resorts and even
out of country travel packages are also highly in demand during this season.
The celebration of Christmas in the Philippines go on full blast right after All
Saint's Day. By this time, bonuses have been released and Christmas bazaars
in every corner of the market have sprung up already. People start being a
little kinder than the usual, and greeting everyone with a warm smile

becomes more common. Indeed you'll know that the Christmas spirit can be
felt all over the country. In December, Filipinos still observed the tradition of
visiting different churches either early in the morning or late at night. After
that, it's also tradition to eat breakfast or late snack on food stands outside
churches that sell bibingka, putobumbong, and batirol (hot chocolate). The
Christmas season in the Philippines does not end after the 25th of December.
It officially ends on January 6 where they celebrate the feast for the three
kings. That's the only time that most people would start to clean up and put
away their Christmas decors that's been on display as early as September.
So in total, Christmas season in the Philippines lasts for about 4 months,
making it the longest Christmas celebration in the world.
Reflection
Christmas is a synonym for tolling bells and playing carols around the globe.
Children and grown-ups equally wait for it as the cold winds welcome the
month of November. While for many of us it also means a long stretch of
vacation. How long? That depends on the part of world you live. In the
Philippines, the Christmas season starts, approximately, from September 1st
and lasts until January 10. Shops in the Philippines often begin playing carols
as soon its September. In the Philippines, predominantly a Roman Catholic
country, December 15 marks the beginning of 9 masses, known as novena.
These masses attract worshipers to churches as early in the morning as 4:00
am. Worshipers, traditionally, have breakfast together after the mass and
drink ginger tea with a yellow cake made of rice.
Often Christmas parties in the Philippines start from the start of December.
The parties are held at workplaces, schools and even in homes for relatives
and friends one-two weeks before December 25. Filipinos enjoy dancing,
food and sometimes fireworks at pre and post-Christmas parties. The
Christmas parties remain one of the main features of the Christmas season in
the Philippines and everyone looks forward to them. The Christmas vacation
extends to the New Years eve and traditionally daily-wage earners in the
Philippines return to work between Christmas and the New Year. People who
work in offices enjoy extended holidays until January 6th, when Epiphany or
Three Kings Day is celebrated. This day essentially culminates the longest
Christmas season of the world and people begin to return to jobs and
businesses from January 7th. However, some Filipinos extend it further to
unwind themselves from the festivities of Christmas and the New Year.

Surely, celebrating Christmas in the Philippines is a treat that we all deserve,

especially those who need a LONG unwinding vacation from their hectic daily
work schedule.

Pliant like a Bamboo

There is a story in Philippine folklore about a mango tree and a bamboo tree.
Not being able to agree as to which the stronger of the two was, they called
upon the wind to make the decision. The wind blew hardest. The mango tree
stood fast. It would not yield. It knew it was strong and sturdy. It would not
sway. It was too proud. It was too sure of itself. But finally its root gave way,
and it tumbled down. The bamboo tree was wiser. It knew it was not as
robust as the mango tree. And so every time the wind blew, it bent its head
gracefully. It made loud protestations, but let the wind have its way. When
finally the wind got tired of blowing, the bamboo tree still stood in all its
beauty and grace. The Filipino is like the bamboo tree. He knows that he is
not strong enough, to withstand the onslaught of superior forces. And so he
yields. He bends his head gracefully with many loud protestations. And he
has survived. The Spaniards came and dominated him for more than three
hundred years. And, when the Spaniards left, the Filipinos still stoodonly
much richer in experience and culture. The Americans took place of the
Spaniards. They used more subtle means of winning over the Filipinos to
their mode of living and thinking. The Filipinos embraced the American way
of life more readily than the Spaniards vague promises hereafter. Then the
Japanese came like a storm, like a plague of locusts, like a pestilencerude,
relentless, cruel. The Filipino learned to bow his head low, to cooperate
with the Japanese in their holy mission of establishing the Co-Prosperity
Sphere. The Filipino had only hate and contempt for the Japanese, but he
learned to smile sweetly at them and to thank them graciously for their
benevolence and magnanimity. And now that the Americans have come
back and driven away the Japanese, those Filipinos who profited most from
cooperating with the Japanese have been loudest in their protestations of
innocence. Everything is as if the Japanese had never been in the Philippines.
For the Filipino would welcome any kind of life that the gods would offer him.
That is why he is contented and happy and at peace. The sad plight of other
people of the world is not his. To him, as to that ancient Oriental poet, the

past is already a dream, and tomorrow is only a vision; but today, well-lived,
makes every yesterday a dream of happiness, and tomorrow is a vision of
hope. This may give you the idea that the Filipino is a philosopher. Well he is.
He has not evolved a body of philosophical doctrines. Much less has he put
them down into a book, like Kant for example, or Santayana or Confucius.
But he does have a philosophical outlook on life. He has a saying that life is
like a wheel. Sometimes it is up, sometimes it is down. The monsoon season
comes, and he has to go undercover. But then the sun comes out again. The
flowers bloom, and the birds sing in the trees. You cut off the branches of a
tree, and, while the marks of the bolo* are still upon it, it begins to shoot
forth-new branchesbranches that are the promise of new color, new
fragrance, and new life. Everywhere about him is a lesson in patience and
forbearance that he does not have to learn with difficulty. For the Filipino
lives in a country on which the gods lavished their gifts aplenty. He does not
have to worry about the morrow. Tomorrow will be only another dayno
winter of discontent. Of he loses his possessions, there is the land and there
is the sea, with all the riches that one can desire. There is plenty to sparfor
friends, for neighbors and for everyone else. No wonder that the Filipino can
afford to laugh. For the Filipino is endowed with saving grace of humor. This
humor is earthly as befits one who has not indulged in deep contemplation.
But it has enabled the Filipino to shrug his shoulders in times of adversity
and say to himself Bahala na*. The Filipino has often been accused of being
indolent and of lacking initiative. And he has answered back* that no one can
help being indolent and lacking in initiative who lives under the torrid sun
which saps the vitality. This seeming lack of vitality is, however, only one of
his means of survival. He does not allow the world to be too much with him.
Like the bamboo tree, he lets the winds of change and circumstance blow all
about him; and he is unperturbed and serene. The Filipino, in fact, has a way
of escaping from the rigorous problems of life. Most of his art is escapist in
nature. His forefathers wallowed in the *moro-moro, the awit, and the kurido.
They loved to identify themselves as gallant knights battling for the favors
of fair ladies or the possession of hallowed place. And now he himself loves
to be lost in the throes and modern romance and adventure. His gallantry
towards womenespecially comely womenis a manifestation of his
romantic turn of mind. Consequently, in no other place in Orient are women
so respected, so adulated, and so pampered. For his women have enabled
the Filipinos to look upon the vicissitudes of fortune as the bamboo tree
regards the angry blasts of the blustering wind. The Filipino is eminently
suited to his romantic role. He is slender and wiry. He is nimble and graceful
in his movements, his voice is soft, and h has the gift of language. In what

other place in the world can you find a people who can carry on a fluent
conversation in at least *three languages? This gift is another means by
which the Filipino as managed to survive. There is no insurmountable barrier
between him and any of the people who have come to live with him
Spanish, American, and Japanese. The foreigners do not have learn his
language. He easily manages to master theirs. Verily, the Filipino is like the
bamboo tree. In its grace, in its ability to adjust itself to the peculiar and
inexplicable whims of fate, the bamboo tree is his expressive and symbolic
national tree, it will have to be, not the molave or the narra, but the bamboo.
Reflection
The Filipino character is similar to the bamboo because it has flexibility,
endurance, and harmony with nature. It bends with the wind, but can survive
a storm. Just like the bamboo, the Filipino nation goes along with the forces
of nature and politics. It copes with "fate" rather than fights against it. The
Filipino mind is pliant in the sense that it is open to new ideas. Although the
Filipino is trusting, he is also capable of standing up for his own beliefs. He
will not tolerate betrayal and oppression. Filipinos in general are protective of
their hard-won independence, and they will fight for their freedom at all
costs.