What would happen if our national hero had died earlier than expected?
Everything happened so fast.
I was on a vessel coming from my home country towards Barcelona for a negotiation with my fellow doctors. It has been half a day since I set foot here, contemplating my plans on freeing my beloved country, when I suddenly remembered that I have yet to finish Noli Me Tangere's final chapter. While I was quietly rummaging my compilation of random notes and sketches scattered on a miniscule desk, a knock pounded at the door. I asked who it was, and a husky man's voice, which I instantly recognized as Señor Martinez's, responded to invite me for a drink with him and his companion. I agreed with a bit of hesitation-- for if I do not satisfy the Illustrados, I'm afraid I would be disregarded as an unworthy Indio. I continued searching my desk until I finally saw the slightly crumpled paper with an outlined plot.
After a sigh of relief, I went out of my room, locked the door, and walked through the narrow hall of the deck. There were various groups of Illustrados, including the friars, who were, to my great surprise, waving in sync. I bowed my head to show a sign of respect as I pass by them. I finally arrived at the said room and opened the door to see what was unhoped for. The doctors whom I was supposed to meet in Barcelona were right in front of me, drinking champagne.
"Welcome, fellow Señor!" said by one of them the moment he saw me.
"Come, sit and have a taste of drink," another called.
With a nick of gratitude, I sat down on one of the vacant chairs. The doctors seem to be enjoying their drink as they discuss various diseases that had been recently found out. One of them gave me a shot glass but I have no intention of getting myself drunk. This is not a good time to have a proper discussion about helping the poor and sickly Filipinos. Disappointed, I observed them in silence until the door creaked with SeñorMartinez to give us news about a commotion going on at the upper deck. The doctors gave no heed but I immediately followed Señor Martinez upstairs.
Everybody was gathered in a circle around the commotion. I fastened my pace and went to see the cause.I was surprised at the sight: a beautiful mestiza laid on the ground, with tears cascading down her cheek, her skin battered with wounds.
The scattered and shattered pieces of glass around her were probably the cause of injuries on her skin and nobody around those surrounding her had given her a hand. I put the others aside as I pull myself in to get her. Everyone obviously gasped at the sign of help.
"Señorita, are you all right?" I asked, as I grab hold of her hand.
She stole a look in my eyes and continued sobbing. Luckily, I have my emergency kit in my room so I could treat her wounds. She slightly slumped as we walk together, with my hands on her shoulders to keep her up.
Finally, as soon as we got in my room, I let her lie down on my bed and gathered all the necessary things to treat the wounds. I gently placed the treatment on her arms and on her face,with her showing subtle reaction to the sting it gives. After that, she gave thanks then mumbled something to herself. I told her that it was no big deal because things like this happen here and there. Her beauty held my breath away. Nobody should hurt a fragile woman like her.
So I asked, "What’s your name?"
Looking away from me, she said, "Victoria.....Gomez."
Beautiful name, Victoria. Just like Queen Victoria."Well, I'm Jose Rizal and I'm a doctor here on board for a negotiation with my fellow ones."
"I know since you're well known,” she chuckled.I set down the kit inside my suitcase and sat beside her.
"Señorita, to be honest with you, I think you are quite beautiful. Tell me something about yourself."
She showed signs of resistance but agreed to narrate her life. Ever since she was a child, her father, a Spaniard, left her and her mother for another woman. Her mother wept and wept everyday, praying on her rosary, going to the church to praise the Lord, in hopes of getting her husband back. But he never came. Until one day, a calesa with an uncontrolled horse, running so fast on the road where her mother was crossing, hit her. From that time on, the Cabeza de Barangay took their house and Victoria was forced to live in the streets and apply as a household maid. She prayed to God with her mother's rosary, for her mother to be brought back to life. Sadly, years passed and nothing happened. She has no knowledge of where her father is until now and she blames him for everything that had gone.
As she told her story, tears formed again in her eyes. I pitied her and told her I was going to help her in anyway I can. I was captivated with both her story and her beauty. No one should ever hurt her. No one... should ever hurt any Filipino.
"Thanks for listening," she said.
I pat her on the backuntil suddenly,I felt something pierce through my heart. It hurt. I looked at my chest and found a knife. In no time, I could feel pain spread throughout my body.
"No!" I screamed.
Her voice changes in to deep, hushed tones. "Such make believe. You really think that happened to me? I wouldn’t be here now if it did!"
Blood spurted from my mouth like a leaking faucet. It was uncontrollable.
"You can’t ruin the reputation of Spaniards! My father is Señor Martinez and he is the lead clergyman of the Philippines! You cant live. You are bound to die! The Spaniards will forever conquer the Philippines!"She took out the knife from my pierced heart then repeatedly stabbed me.
The last sentence I heard was the worst thing I could ever hear. It was the worst thing any Filipino could hear, and the worst thing anyone could experience. My eyes blurred as I felt blood gashing out of my body. I voluntarily glanced at the crumpled paper with Noli me Tangere's final chapter on the desk, the glimmer of hope evaporating as my entire world vanished into darkness...
Jose Rizal is known as the national hero of the Philippines. He did not revolt against the Spaniards using guns or swords, but through writing. Without Noli Me Tangere’s publication and other works of Rizal related to freeing the Filipinos, probably, none of us would ever really know the things that happened in the Spanish government. Even worse, we would probably be still under a colonial system, working our ways to fight for freedom.
