Pambansang tour guide

2026 marks the 165th year of Jose Rizal’s birth, the 130th year of his martyrdom, the 115th anniversary of the establishment of the Order of the Knights of Rizal, and the 70th year of Republic Act No. 1425, which made courses on Rizal and his works compulsory in all schools in the Philippines. 2026 also marks my 65th year, my 40th year of teaching, my 41st year of writing, and my 45th year of historical and archival research. According to an astrologer, when you turn Rizal’s birth chart upside down, it resembles mine. I did not die from a shot in the back at 35, and did not become a national hero; that is probably why I am still alive, educating and entertaining the like-minded, continuing to irritate those who take themselves too seriously.

Looking back, it has been a good run. Forty-five years since I first entered the National Archives of the Philippines to look at a bundle of papers marked “Rizal” and was told that it was like beating a dead horse. The unsolicited advice still rings in my ears, as if I heard it only yesterday, “Bakit mo i-research si Rizal? Gasgas na ‘yan! (Why research Rizal? It is a worn-out topic.)” Forty-five years since then, I still uncover new things about the hero, his life, and works from sources previously unknown or simply overlooked.

Rizal wrote a lot, leaving 25 volumes of writing, for a nation that does not read him. If at all, he is not even read in the original Spanish, German, French, Italian, or even Tagalog, but read largely in English. His novels are required reading in schools, but these are read in translations of varying accuracy, often in abridged form and sometimes, even in comics format. Those too lazy or who have no time to read can listen to the novels online in the early 20th-century translations by Charles Derbyshire, or in the tight, contemporary rendering by Leon Ma. Guerrero. The narrated Derbyshire translation sounds like a female automated voice from Waze, while the Guerrero translation, read by Richard Grant, is humorous at first, because Rizal speaks with a British accent! The Derbyshire translation is available for free on YouTube (“Noli Me Tangere” in three parts, 19 hours and 19 minutes; “El Filibusterismo” in two parts at 13 hours and 20 minutes), while Guerrero is available on Audible (“Noli,” 16 hours and 40 minutes; “Fili” at 12 hours and 55 minutes). There is a new version with an annoying virtual voice in American English, but none in the original Spanish and Filipino.

Last Tuesday, at the request of the German Embassy in Manila, I gave a quick tour of the Rizal Shrine in Intramuros for Frank-Walter Steinmeier, Federal President of Germany, and his wife, Elke Büdenbender. We started from the ticket booth entrance of Fort Santiago toward the main gate in the afternoon heat. I told them that the Philippines is a young nation with an old history, and that in history and everyday life, you see many layers. What is now a beautifully manicured park was a Spanish fort built over the palisades of Rajah Soliman in the 16th century. At the end of the fort, by the Pasig River, was a notorious Japanese and Spanish-era prison. We always have a choice of what time or part of history to remember or forget. I mentioned the cosmic alignment of the group because the present German Ambassador Andreas Michael Pfaffernoschke shares Rizal’s birthday, June 19. He was born 101 years later. I told them about my own German connection, having been sent by the Goethe Institut Manila to study German in a pretty little town called Staufen im Breisgau that is not on most maps, a town famous as the place where the devil took the soul of Faust.

Inside the Rizal Shrine was a special treat. The National Library of the Philippines, through its director, Cesar Gilbert Adriano, and Filipiniana Division chief Maricel Manalo-Diaz, made accessible four important Rizaliana items relevant to the German visitors. Most important was the original handwritten manuscript of Rizal’s “Noli” that was treated many years ago by German conservators, who unfortunately re-bound it too tightly. I opened the facsimile copy to the last page to show them the birth certificate of the great Philippine novel, credited with inspiring the Philippine Revolution.

“Noli” was born in Berlin on Monday, Feb. 21, 1887, at 11:30 p.m. A first edition of the book was also on display, printed by a technical school for women in Berlin. I pointed out the names of the typesetters written on the margins of the manuscript: Albreghs, M. Buddeberg, Krah, Kenkow, Leondhart, and Schultz. These six German women were the first to read the “Noli,” but they didn’t understand the Spanish text. They did not know how important the book would become to people half the world away. Also on display was Rizal’s manuscript translation of Friedrich Schiller’s “Wilhelm Tell” from the original German into Tagalog, and a humorous cartoon in German he made in Wilhelmsfeld.

See Also

Comparing Vietnam and the Philippines

I came out of retirement briefly to play Pambansang tour guide again and was happy that, like former Singapore President S.R. Nathan and former Czech Republic Prime Minister Jan Fischer, who I toured before, the German visitors were genuinely interested in Rizal, and saw his connection with their home country. Rizal’s life and travels can be deployed in Philippine diplomacy.

—————-

Comments are welcome at ambeth.ocampo@inquirer.net