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 am sprung from a hardy race – child 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 the new land that was to be their home and their children’s 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 promised 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 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 is 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 Gregorio 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 forth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacanang 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 my dignity as a human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousands of 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, 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 its hall 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 . . .

Ne’er shall invaders

Trample thy sacred shore.

Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heart-strings 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 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 in Pampanga; out of the first cries of babies newly born and the lullabies that mothers sing; out of 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 children’s – forever.

I AM A FILIPINO by Carlos P. Romulo
Read the complete text at:http://magnakultura.multiply.com/journal/item/2

Artwork from SKYWORLD by Ian Sta. Maria / LAKAN by Gerry Alanguilan / HUMANIS REX by Gerry Alanguilan

Happy Birthday Kajo!

The secret origin of my dynamic team-up with talented Mr. Baldisimo aka KA-JO.



I first met Kajo when he was part of Virtual Media Studios -- which was the unofficial tambayan of Alamat Comics way back when.

During those years we'd drop by and hang out, I got to see Kajo and guys work on the pages of A.R.C.H.O.N. Kajo actually finished three fantastic issues of that comic book. All the art was colored and letter and then... their PC crashed and they lost all the artwork. So, we may never know whatever happened to that band of law-enforcers in outer space.

Here's one of Kajo's pin-ups from A.R.C.H.O.N., showing Troy, the team leader.


My first collaboration with Kajo was a comic book that only got distributed in Malate. We were hired by an NGO to make a comic book about AIDS and HIV. So, I wrote a story about a guy who sleeps around and ends up getting AIDS and gives it to his wife as well. The issue ends with some literature about the benefits of regularly going to clinics and get tested. We never did get a copy of that comic book.

The next time I worked in Kajo was in the year 2000. I was already working for the ad agency and we had to do print ads to promote Globe's text-based games of X-MEN and PUNISHER. So, if you ever remember seeing those ads or posters of Globe with those Marvel characters, those were drawn by Kajo!

Couple of years later, Kajo started "NWA" a comic strip that was serialized in MTV INK, the channel's music magazine. He then asked me if I wanted to collaborate on something that we can pitch to the magazine. Around that time, I had already released the three issues of Batch72 and wanted to bring back that old barkada. So, I thought of revamping them and we pitched it as 8 HIT COMBO. (By the time we did pitch it, the magazine had shut down.)



Sometime later, Kajo said he wanted me to help him write a story. So, he sent me this 24-page story with no words. The art was amazing! I got excited and asked Kajo, "So who's this girl? And why is she running? And who's the guy? What about this monster?" Kajo just looked at me and said, "Oh, I leave all of that up to you. So, we really get to collaborate on this 50-50." Left without a clue, I held on to those pages for how many months, until I slowly started to make sense of the pictures.

Those wordless pages eventually became THE LAST DATU.
http://komix7107.blogspot.com/2009/11/last-datu-lawanas-story.html




Of course, if you're a regular visitor of this blog, you already know about that text message Kajo sent me back in June 2005; the text where we asked the ridiculous question: "Do you think we can work on a a monthly comic book?" I laughed and just thought, "Okay, maybe we'll get to do ONE issue!" That one issue later became 13 cases.



So, as you can see, on several occasions, it was really Kajo who would nudge, poke, and prod me to do a comic book project. So, please do help me greet my partner-in-crime! (If you're linked up to him in Facebook, please greet him there or maybe greet him on the Trese Facebook page.)

By the way, aside from working on TRESE Book 4, we've got another surprise for you this year; something that we hope to launch in the next comic book event.