In Manila where I grew up, there is no trace of the indigenous Filipino community. Architecture is Spanish, merchandise is American, and merchants are Chinese. There may not even be a soul walking in the city without a drop of foreign blood in his or her veins. Three hundred thirty-three (look at it in figures: 333) years under Spain, 50 years under the USA, and how many odd years of Chinese, Hindu, and Arab visitors and migrants all residing in our nation’s body and memory. Even the name by which we call this beloved nation was imposed by the first major colonizers. Felipenas: the islands of Felipe, then king on the Spanish throne when Magellan “discovered” the archipelago that was simply minding its own business.
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When the Spaniards came, the islands already have a flourishing civilization. The inhabitants already have well-organized systems of government, religion, literature, and art. Then Magellan had King Humabon of Cebu baptized a Christian, in the first celebrated mass in the islands. When Humabon opened his eyes after praying to the new deity, he gained a cross but had lost his land. In the name of the Father, Magellan claimed a sovereign nation for a king in a distant land.
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