15 years on: appreciating my high school literature class (4)

This weekend, I attended the Walk This Way tour of Carlos Celdran entitled "If These Walls Could Talk" in Intramuros, the "Walled City" of Manila. He became the voice of Old Manila's ancient walls which have seen the ups and downs of the Pearl of the Orient. Here's an overview of the tour from his blog.

For me, Intramuros has always been nothing more than one giant relic featuring the Spanish influence on the Philippines. One could feel the age of this city because of the Spanish sounding names, the Spanish looking architecture, the calesas, and the cobblestone roads. Also, the highlight of a trip to Intramuros (for me) was always the stop at Fort Santiago where Jose Rizal, the Philippine National Hero, was imprisoned before his execution in Luneta back in 1896. The old city appeared to be dead; nothing more than pieces of stone, piles of rubble, plants growing over the ruins. A very sad image, indeed, of a distant cultural heritage.

Walk This Way changed that. Mr. Celdran, able to condense years of history lessons into two hours, pointed out how resilient the ancient Walled City is. Our walk along the hallowed streets of Intramuros has placed a context to the names, dates, places, and events that we've been required to memorise in school.

Through the guided tour of the walls surrounding Intramuros, I learned of the triumphs and the downfalls of this ancient city, from the bamboo fortresses built by the Muslim Kingdom of Manila to the stone walls built by the Spaniards, bombed by Japanese and American forces, and then slowly rebuilt by Americans and by Filipinos. Amid the ruins, Mr. Celdran introduced us to the essence of Old Manila, a city preserving the cultural influences from faraway Spain and neighboring Southeast Asia while thriving in a modern world where paella, relleno, and halo-halo live on amid the encroachment of hamburgers, soda, and flavoured coffee.

If only those ancient walls would talk, I think they would repeat William Ernest Henley's sentiments which he had laid down in ink in 1875. Intramuros has survived centuries of wars and decades of neglect  and should be proud to say that it is "bloody, but unbowed".

Henley's poem I'm referring to is no other than Invictus.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried out aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.