A Time for Flowers

Riding a horse becomes an easy task, almost trivial in nature, once you realize that the horse has feelings too. When you take into account the horse’s feelings and so on, it becomes so much easier to sit on top of him and ride. Indeed, when you think about it, riding a horse is less about the rider and more about the horse. In the great act of horse-riding, the man becomes secondary, almost parasitical when compared to the horse. Ultimately it is the horse’s will that dictates where it wants to go, what it wants to do, or if he would even allow you to grace his back. The greatest of cavalrymen know this and understand this principle.

That’s not to say that the rider has no say in the horse’s feelings or actions. The greatest of cavalrymen have a sort of mutual understanding with his horse; they have this shared knowledge and they develop this gut feeling when it comes to dealing with their horse. Their horse is their partner and the rider understands how the horse feels. In turn, the horse sort of understands the rider’s will and they use that synergy to become an effective union of horse and man.

Riding through the mountains of Benguet, I have come to realize this, although slowly. I do not particularly regret not taking the bus towards Baguio. I prefer the scenic route and they could just wait for me to get there for all I care, but it does get lonely sometimes. I bought this horse, a sturdy black one, when I left Dagupan, and I had planned on taking him as far as he could and simply hitch a ride from then, but I had a change of heart. Frankly, the horse grew on me. Looking back, simply the thought of abandoning my horse seemed so cruel. My horse had allowed me to ride him from Dagupan all the way to Bauang, La Union, and now we make our trek to Baguio through the steep mountains of Benguet.

In some ways, taking the horse to Baguio is a better way to travel than by road. You don’t get to appreciate the sublime beauty of the Philippine Islands if you’re just sitting on a vehicle and looking out the window. American modernization has brought many wonderful things to these islands, chief among which is the development of roads between major cities, but in doing this, we have sacrificed the joy of scenic beauty, and with it, the joy of riding through the countryside. Sometimes, a horse could also more easily navigate through the various roads and cliffs that come between Dagupan and Baguio, especially as you get closer to the destination. The Kennon Road had been constructed to facilitate easier access to the city, but the truth of the matter is that it is barely an improvement. The road is treacherous and riding a bus through it only adds more problems. It takes a truly skilled driver to navigate through safely, but the reward comes in the form of one of the most beautiful cities in this country. If there is ever a place that could be considered a paradise in the sky, then it would be Baguio. I had heard from the British, of majestic temples on top of equally majestic mountains in Tibet, but Baguio lends a different, more earthly, cosmopolitan kind of majesty to itself. There is a certain quality in Baguio not found anywhere else in the Philippine Islands, owing much to the circumstances of its creation.

Baguio was borne out of our ideas and out of our sensibilities, out of our longing for something close to home. We had come here to the Filipino’s land and we had declared ourselves masters of it, and to prove that we truly had mastered this domain, we erected a symbol of Americanism right in their land. Baguio was the product of a long process of turmoil, however, and this wouldn’t have been possible if we did not end the war as decisively as we had. I am not by any means a native sympathiser; I don’t side with them, but I understand why they would fight us. They have the right to fight for their land, and to tell the truth, the Philippines is a beautiful land, worth fighting. I don’t believe the Filipinos have the right to independence, however. They simply don’t have the capacity for benevolent rule, and they would most certainly undo themselves if they were given free reign over this land. There are too few good Filipinos; the rest are idiots. For all the virtues men can heap upon the Filipino, the ability to self-govern is not one of them. I have seen the Filipino. I have fought with him. I have seen his bravery, and his savagery, and I have seen his self-preservation. The circumstances of our victory in the Philippine Islands are the product of this self-preservation. These were a people whose love for self extends far beyond their love of country. These were a people who would shout from the mountaintops, “Independence or death!” while they surrender in the cities and plains.