I find it rather strange that in all of Manny Pacquiao’s fights, not one of those who sang the “Lupang Hinirang” passed the standards of the National Historical Institute (NHI). It is a sad fact, indeed, that the NHI criticisms have always dampened what otherwise should be an undiluted national celebration of a Pacquiao victory. On the other hand, I still have to hear of any American, Mexican or Briton airing any comment, good or bad, on how their respective anthems had been rendered by different artists, each one of whom, common sense simply dictates, must surely have his or her own singing style and interpretation. Aren’t we becoming extremely, and unduly, puritanical in this respect?
Of course, the NHI takes refuge under Republic Act 8491, which provides that “the rendition of the National Anthem, whether played or sung, shall be in accordance with the musical arrangement and composition of Julian Felipe.” RA 8491 punishes the failure or refusal to observe such provision with public censure, as well as with one-year imprisonment or P5,000-fine, or both, at the discretion of the court. (Inquirer, 5/03/09).
Unfortunately, the sheer mention of that law only inevitably brings to worldwide rebuke another of this country’s many “national embarrassments,” to wit: our propensity to make laws that we cannot implement. Why? Simply because practically all the artists who sang the “Lupang Hinirang” in Pacquiao fights before Nievera did not follow the original musical composition and arrangement of Felipe; yet not one of them has ever been formally indicted. Also, that perception is not only highly debatable; even the NHI has not actually demonstrated how the anthem is to be perfectly sung. Neither did our grade school teachers teach it to us as they did English or Arithmetic. Let’s admit, we all learned our national anthem essentially “a la oido.” And so, we would probably have to resurrect Felipe to sing and record it in a diskette, or to have graduates of the Conservatory of Music to correctly interpret it, if we are to implement RA 8491 to the letter.
I am not a musician, but methinks none of the artists who had sung the “Lupang Hinirang” in past Pacquiao fights may be said to have maligned the spirit of patriotism that it connotes. Comparatively, the harm done, if any, is not as much as the Church might have “murdered” the originality of the “Ama Namin” by re-inventing that prayer in as many tunes and variations as we have parishes.
Alack, to such extent that, if similarly done to “Silent Night,” for example, we would no longer feel the coming Christmas when that song begins to fill the air as early as September. But that is entirely another matter.
—RUDY L. CORONEL,
Once in the great Paris flea market, at the Porte de Clignancourt, I saw a handful of Bohol “santos” on display. Before asking for the price I innocently asked for their provenance—where were these wonderful folk images of the Virgin Mary originally from—and was told they came from Latin America! I did not argue because I was certain that if these were correctly labeled as coming from the Philippines, they would cost much less. I had a similar experience in an antique mall in New York City where Bohol “santos” were said to be South American and cost more.
The Philippine “santos” came into their own two decades ago when an Architectural Digest cover story carried pictures of Elton John’s sitting room ornamented with Philippine “santos” of wood and ivory heads. In the recent Christie’s Paris auction of the collection of Yves Saint Laurent, there were two Hispano-Philippine ivories from the 17th or 18th century. One of the ivories, a head of Christ figured prominently on YSL’s coffee table. There is belated awareness of Filipino heritage these days, helpful if only to preserve the little we have left.
Fifteen years ago, I was shown an empty niche in Dimiao church where an ancient retablo once stood. It was sacrificed to fund church repairs in the 1970s and pioneering antique dealer Nene Cortes shipped it to Manila. Is this the same one now displayed in the National Museum? If large objects like retablos, pulpits and architectural details can be moved, what more portable valuable objects like church silver and ivories? What about old books, manuscripts and archival material that are the first consigned to a fire?
I remember a fiesta in Bohol where I watched the town band perform pop hits. While everyone had their eyes on the legs of the majorettes who twirled batons seductively, my eyes spotted the drum tops covered with Gregorian chant. Someone had put these ancient pig-skin choir books in the bodega to good use: when the drums of the town band broke they replaced it with a page from the over-sized choir book. Frankly, if it were possible to convert these choir books into chicharon, these would have disappeared much earlier and Dr. William Summers would not be able to tell us about early music in Bohol, including the crude but historically important “Misa Baclayana,” a musical setting for the Mass reconstructed from old music found in Bohol churches.
While I am happy that foreigners come to study Philippine culture, one wonders why Filipinos don’t seem to care. One reason is that we see our culture every day but we rarely sit back and notice. With the exception of Bohol historians Marianito Luspo and Jess Tirol, much of what I know of Bohol heritage comes from Manila-based researchers: Regalado Trota Jose (now a Dominican), Fr. Rene Javellana (Jesuit), Augusto Villalon (secular), Romeo Allianigue (ex-Carmelite), Osmundo Esguerra (furniture expert), Ramon Villegas (antique dealer) and Esperanza Gatbonton (independent researcher). Why isn’t more research on Bohol being done in Bohol? By Boholanos? Now that is both a challenge and a wish.
Heritage awareness these days is often focused on structures at risk, those that are being torn down to make way for modern buildings, or those being renovated beyond recognition. There is much more to Bohol than churches, watchtowers and natural landscape—the draft for the pre-history of Bohol, the history of Bohol before written records, is waiting to be written up from archeological records and artifacts in the National Museum and the writings of the pioneering pre-historian of the Philippines, H. Otley Beyer. Then there is the Guthe collection in the University of Michigan Museum of Anthropology in Ann Arbor.
Carl E. Guthe headed an archeological expedition to the Philippines from 1922 to 1925, and from his base in Opon, Cebu, he excavated thousands of artifacts that now form the core of the museum’s Asia Division. These artifacts and records were brought back for future study and research, but 84 years later these material still cry out for a researcher to piece this unwritten history together.
Bohol is a success story for eco and heritage tourism, it has everything a tourist will want: beaches, Chocolate Hills, tarsier, colonial churches and watchtowers, plus a hospitable people. Loboc is a smashing success with its choir and river cruise. The Baclayon church museum is run by Baclayanons proud of their “native” delicacies: the Bohol chocolate, Baclayon broas, and Dauis torta are welcome contributions to the development of our national cuisine.
Loose tongues from narrow minds often argue that cultural heritage is a useless expense in a country with so much poverty. But in Bohol cultural heritage has generated jobs, encouraged small businesses and given Boholanos a sense of pride, self and identity. Perhaps there is truth to the saying that familiarity breeds contempt, worse, it often breeds apathy—that is why four historical markers were installed in Dauis and Maribijoc last week so that people will see and notice. That Bohol is culturally rich led to a suggestion that the National Historical Institute declare the whole province a national landmark.
At the very least it will save on historical markers from Manila, and preserve and develop what’s left of Bohol heritage.
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