La Vie En Rose
Bawat litrato ay may natatanging kwento.
When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with two things: history, and photographs. The best days I can remember as a child were those when I read When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit or would walk around with my old film minolta point and shoot in hand. Although I am much older now, there is still a part of that little girl that remains in me, and therefore I felt particularly excited when I heard about the documentary, Ang mahiwagang ngiti ni Rizal, which aired last May 30, 2011 on GMA 7.
The documentary was a pictorial analysis of Jose Rizal’s life in Europe, discussing how no Filipino hero of his time was as photographed. This made me question, “Just how well do I know Jose Rizal?” The first thing that comes to mind when I hear his name is naturally, national hero. When I begin to think of images of him, I see him in a dark coat tie, curly hair parted to one side, with a nondescript expression. I also sometimes envision him in my mind on the one peso coin. These are probably the same images every other Filipino thinks of when they hear the name Jose Rizal.
As the documentary progressed, I witnessed a whole new side of Rizal. Images of him donning wigs and costumes, playing parts—photographs used as the basis for many of the famous painter Juan Luna’s works.
I saw a man who knew how to have a good time with his friends, even when it meant doing silly things. His eyes, sometimes sad, seemed to speak volumes of what it was like to be apart from his family. A thin frame seemed to describe the difficulties he was experiencing in accomplishing his education. Through that rare smile of his, I saw in him a young person hopeful of a future with someone but was prevented by circumstance. I saw in him what I could probably see in any other Filipino.
Elementary classes in history neglect to discuss what they regard as minute details in our heroes’ lives. When we discussed Rizal in my History 165 class last semester, the lecture came at a timely period in my life when I found myself struggling with similar issues he faced. Here I was, a sickly pre-med major who wanted nothing but to be able to become a good physician someday, while not failing to neglect my passions in things like writing and photography.
Rizal, despite his struggles, found means to rise above all and still finish sobresaliente. He went on to make a difference. He was driven and lived his life not according to what he was limited to doing but instead focused on what more he could do. When truly reflected upon, if every Filipino would be as restless as Rizal was to make a difference in the problems of his or her nation, then we would probably be living in different conditions.
A hundred and fifty years after his birth, I believe Rizal is more relevant than we actually assume him to be. I like to think that Jose Rizal is our national hero not because of what he has done for the nation, but what he can inspire us to do. I can only hope that as time progresses and historical education continues, each Filipino can glance at a portrait of the man called Pepe, and see even the slightest reflection of himself.
