Saturday, June 2, 2012
(written by Raul S. Manglapus. It is about the Filipino's quest for freedom against oppression.)
Once upon a time, the tao owned a piece of land. It was all he owned. But he cherished it, for it gave him three things, having which, he was content: life, first of all, and liberty, and happiness.
Then one day the Spaniard came and commanded him to pay tribute to the crown of Spain. The tao paid tribute. And he was silent — he was certain that he was still the master of his land.
The Spaniard became rich. But with riches, evil entered into him and he came to the tao a second time. He read to the tao a formidable document saying: “According to this decreto real, which unfortunately you cannot read, this that you have been paying me is not tribute but rent, for the land is not yours but mine.” The tao paid tribute and said nothing … He ceased to be a freeman. He became a serf. Still the tao held his peace. The rent went up and up. The tao starved.
And this time at last he spoke. Not in words, but with that rustic instrument with which he cleared the land once his own — the bolo. He transformed it from an instrument of tillage to an instrument of death, and with it drove away the stranger. Then he returned to his field saying: “Now indeed shall I again be master of this land, once my own, but stolen from me by the trickery of quicker wits than mine.”
But the tao was wrong. For the land had another master. This time not a stranger, but his own countryman grown rich. The tao had a new name, kasama, which to us means partner, but which to the tao meant still a slave, for once more he suffered from his countrymen the same things he had suffered from the stranger: the rents, the usury, and all the rest of it.
Yes, the tao returned to his field thinking that he was free. But he soon discovered that he was still a prisoner. His prison, a two-room shack, rent by every wind, without any comforts, except that three families have there the privilege to starve. The tao’s home has become his very prison. Its doors, if you can call them such, are wide open. It is a prison nonetheless. For the tao is bound to it, not with chains of steel, but with a stronger chain — his honor. To this day, the tao remains a slave, a prisoner of the usurer.
No wonder, then that tao, being a slave, has acquired the habits of a slave. No wonder that after three centuries in chains, without freedom, without hope, he should lose the erect and fearless posture of the freeman, and become the bent, misshapen, indolent, vicious, pitiful thing that he is! Who dares accuse him, who dares rise up in judgement against this man, reduced to this sub-human level by three centuries of oppression. The tao does not come here tonight to be judged — but to judge! Hear then his accusation and his sentence:
I indict the Spanish encomendero for inventing taxes impossible to bear.
I indict the usurer for saddling me with debts impossible to pay.
I indict the irresponsible radical leaders who undermine, with insidious eloquence, the confidence of my kind in our government.
You accuse me of not supporting my family. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.
You accuse me of ignorance. But I am ignorant because my master finds it profitable to keep me ignorant. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.
You accuse me of indolence. But I am indolent not because I have no will, but because I have no hope. Why should I labor, if all the fruits of my labor go to pay an unpayable debt. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false.
Give me land. Land to own. Land unbeholden to any tyrant. Land that will be free. Give me land for I am starving. Give me land that my children may not die. Sell it to me, sell it to me at a fair price, as one freeman sells to another and not as a usurer sells to a slave. I am poor, but I will pay it! I will work, work until I fall from weariness for my privilege, for my inalienable right to be free!
BUT IF YOU WILL NOT GRANT ME THIS … If you will not grant me this last request, this ultimate demand, then build a wall around your home … build it high! … build it strong! Place a sentry on every parapet! … for I who have been silent these three hundred years will come in the night when you are feasting, with my cry and my bolo at your door. And may God have mercy on your soul!
(Poor bride. Her groom didn't show up on her wedding day. Find out why. :P)
I've been stood up on my wedding day! Have you thought of anything more tragic than that? Here comes the bride, all dressed in white!” - - but where is the groom? My Jonathan?
Father’s eyes were apprehensive - - “Madeline - - this is preposterous! - - - Didn’t I warn you? Is this what you call maturity and independence at eighteen? I guess we better hurry home!”
But this is not how playwrights picture love. Romeo died for Juliet, Pyramus for Thisbe, Han Suyen called it a many splendored thing!” - - - And Princess Margaret gave up the crown for love!
Jonathan - - - wait till I get you. I am determined to pursue an unceasing justification of my plight! I remember how I fought Father and Mother when first they refused our young engagement. But how we talked to them about independence and youth’s self-reliance - - - of the new breed, ready, willing and able not only to vote at eighteen but also get married at eighteen.
I imagine what my gang mates would say - - - “Poor Madeline, she was almost a bride - - -!” “Jonathan must have found out that she’s a square!” And all Mother can say is - - “This is most embarrassing!”
Indeed, it is. I should have joined the crusaders for blessed singleness. I should have noted what my father confessor, Fr. Martin, said when I talked about Jonathan and marriage. “Madeline, you’re not ready for it. I guess you have to listen to your parents this time!” But I didn’t!” I was like a spoiled and stubborn child immensely carried away by the now-generations’ indefatigable cry for self-assertion! I was like Jane Fonda speaking for the women’s lib movement.
That phone keeps on ringing. Alright, Mother, alright, I’m answering it. Hello - - - Hello - - - Hello!! Don’t you darling me Mr. Jonathan Anderson - - - may I be privileged to know where were you at nine o’clock sharp this morning? What? Do you know what you did? Well - - - if you don’t - - - then, you’ll never knew!!!
I've been stood up on my wedding day because my groom forgot and fell asleep. Marriage at eighteen - - - how do you like that?
(Selfish love... This is my own description of the piece. Read it and you will understand why.)
Honorable judge, gentlemen of the jury, people of the Philippines, judge me, am I guilty or not guilty?
But before you sentence me to death let me tell you my story.
There was a young girl seventeen years of age with curvaceous body 36, 24, 26, a long hair and sizzling eyes being rich as she was she studied at an exclusive school.
Oh my gosh! I met this guy, he’s the best player in our basketball team, and he’s the heartthrob of our school. OH my gosh! His name? Guess what? who? Robbie Satillian isn't sweet? Oh my gosh we became friends. We became friends. Later more than that after one year of relationship, we decided to settle down the marriage that cut-off the ties of our families and since his parents disagree that’s why he was not supported on his studies. So I decided to give up my studies and work as a sales lady in the supermarket.
Then one night he returned home, he asked for money but I can’t gave him for I just gave him last night, so he walked out the door and the next day he returned home, he was cold as ever and hard as a stone.
One day his graduation came. I was so happy. I expected
Robbie to invite me but he never said a word. I didn't mind it. I still attend his graduation ceremony and when his name was called with a degree of medicine a suma cum laude Robi Santillan, I shouted with glee! When i stood up I was shocked when another girl stood up, and gave that medal to him. I’m supposed to give that medal and pin that ribbon, because I’m his wife, I’m his wife right? I AM HIS WIFE!
With that unpleasant thought fain when he returned home that night, I confronted him. “Robbie, who was that girl?” I asked. He answered, "It's none of your business" he said but Robbie I’m your wife, "You’re just my wife" Robbie how could you do this to me? I gave up my studies and worked as a sales lady and this? This is how you payback? “I have to leave”, he said and when he had packed his this things I decided to get my 45 mm revolver.
“Robbie, you can't just leave me” (pointing the gun to his face) “You can just leave me, Robbie.” “You can't just do this honey. be calm, be calm”.......”No, no, no you can't just leave me, Robbie. You can't just do this”.
But he still decided to go and I did threw worst in my whole painstaking life “Mr. Robbie Santillian with a degree of medicine a Suma cumlaude you will pay all my labors and sacrifices
“BANG! , BANG! I shot him Robbie.......I had killed him.......I had killed him with my barehands..... huhuhu… I'm so sorry.
And now honourable judge gentlemen of the jury people of the Philippines judge me am i guilty or not guilty?
I KILLED HIM BECAUSE I LOVED HIM
(Here's a young girl who needs counsel to enlighten her way and guidance to strengthen her life into contentment..... )
Am I a juvenile delinquent? I'm a teenager; I'm young, young at heart in mind. In this position, I'm carefree; I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure. I seldom go to school, nobody cares! But instead you can see me roaming around. Standing at the nearby canto (street). Or else standing beside a jukebox stand playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons, why people, you branded me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.
My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life. Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can't you see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child, here's 500 bucks, get it and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".
And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can't even divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".
I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But that's not what you can see in me.
Here's a young girl who needs counsel to enlighten her way and guidance to strengthen her life into contentment.
Honorable judge, friends and teachers... Is this the girl whom you commented a juvenile delinquent?.
(The end justifies the means. Stealing was his way to buy medicine for his ill mother.)
They're chasing me, they're chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now, yes enough for my starving mother and brothers.
Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me.
Very well, officers? take me to your headquarters. Good morning captain! no captain, you are mistaken, I was once a good girl, just like the rest of you here. Just like any of your daughters. But time was, when I was reared in slums. But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My, father, mother, brothers, sisters and I. But then, poverty enters the portals of our home. My father became jobless, my mother got ill. The small savings that my mother had kept for our expenses were spent. All for our daily needs and her needed medicine.
One night, my father went out, telling us that he would come back in a few minutes with plenty of foods and money, but that was the last time I saw him. He went with another woman. If only I could lay my hands on his neck I would wring it without pain until he breaths no more. If you were in my place, you'll do it, won't you Captain? What? you won't still believe in me?. Come and I'll show you a dilapidated shanty by a railroad.
Mother, mother I'm home, mother? mother?!. There Captain, see my dead mother. Captain? There are tears in your eyes? Now pack this stolen money and return it to the owner. What good would this do to my mother now? She's already gone! Do you hear me? She's already gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have done?
(How do you show your faith to God? How do you ask forgiveness to God every time you committed mistakes in life? Until when you will put the pride in your hearts and will not kneel down? This declamation piece can help us reflect on our relationship to God. Don't forget to pray after reading this piece. ^_^)
Have you heard that call? They’re looking for me. That’s definitely me. You’re in doubt and Why? You want me to give you proofs? Oh! That’s very easy.
Who told you to doubt that I am a Christian?
I am a Christian! How?
I went to church. I pray. I have my religion. I read the Bible. I love kids and I am giving them what they want. I sing gospel songs. Now you’re telling me that you are in doubt?
How dare you to question me?
Can’t you see? Or Are you blind? I am the true definition of a Christian. You’re so pathetic; you don’t have the right to question me that way.
What?! You want to ask me more?!… I’ll think about it for a second. Hmhm… Ok! I’m sure I’ll be able to answer all your questions fluently. Go… Ask me….
You’re asking me if I go to church every Sunday?! I told you… I GO TO CHURCH… ahmm b-bu-but not every Sunday. Every other Sunday I guess that’s fine with the Lord.
Why?! I-I-I have a project every other Sunday. Yes r-r-right, I have a project. The Lord understands that.
Liar?! I’m not a liar. I’m telling you the truth in fact I went to church last three Sundays straight and Oh my Gosh Cris is in the stage he’s starting to play the guitar.
Ooops I slip!
Ok fine. I went to church three times straight without absent b-because of Cris. He’s cute, he’s talented. And I’m still there for the Lord.
Liar? I’m not a liar. I am still a Christian. It so happen that I don’t have any projects that Sunday.
Ahhh! Fake?! I’m not a fake Christian; at least I go to church.
Don’t shout! Ahhh! I said I’m not a fake Christian, I-I-I pray… every other day. At least I pray.
No! I said I am a true Christian I read the Bible. I open it… Every time the Pastor is telling me to do so.
Ok stop. Why do we need to argue? I guess I really don’t know what Christianity is?
Ok! I go to church not because of Christ but because of Chris! I’m sleeping every time there is a sermon because I only love the music. I don’t read my Bible because I guess that’s boring. I sing… “Jesus, I surrender I draw nearer, I fall down” but the truth I’m not sincere with that. But I guess my works will be credited in his name. I share my blessings to the poor, i give gifts every Sunday and I have a religion I guess that works…I don’t know.
Right, Ephesians 2: 8-9 was right. It is not by works that I will be saved because Jesus is the only way. And I am so wrong I don’t even mind his sacrifices on the cross. I am supposed to be there because those are my sins. I forgot my purpose here on earth; you know what, he’s been good to me. But I always take him for granted. I’m doing things not for his glory but for my own. I should live for him because he died for me. I’m so ashamed now. But Lord you still forgave me. You’re so good. And you brought me to my knees.
Now I’m talking and standing in front of you and I don’t care if you are going to laugh at me. I care to tell you things that I believe I must tell you. He won everything in me and he’s been waiting for you too… If you believe you have him, you may now shout what Carman once wrote “Jesus is the Champion”.
(A piece that can be best delivered by a teenager. A story of a young bad girl who is blaming her parents for not receiving love, care and guidance from them.)
Hey! Every Body seems to be staring at me.. You! You! All of you! How dare you to stare at me? Why? Is it because I’m a bad girl? A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teenager, a problem child? That’s what you call me! I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age. I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, if I have too.
Yes, I’m a bad girl, but where are my parents? You! You! You are my good parents? My good elder brother & sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me? You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you most! In trusted me to a yaya, whose intelligent was much lower than mine! While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling sessions…
Thus… I drifted away from you! Longing for a fathers love, yearning for a mothers care!
As I grow up, everything change! You too have change! You spent more time in your pokers, mah-jong tables, bars and night clubs. You even landed on the headline of the newspaper as crook, peddlers and racketeers.
Now, you call my name; accuse me in everything I do to myself? Tell me! How good you are? If you really wish to ensure my future. Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you… Protect me from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you’ve got to help me! Help me! Oh please…Help me!
(How much do you love your mother? Are you willing to sacrifice, give your own life for her? This piece is somewhat opposite for the main character chose to end his mother's life as a sign of his love. Try to put on the character's shoes by memorizing the piece and delivering it in front of the audience.)
I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that give life to many, killed her because of my love to her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through with flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned the gold medal on my proud breast.
Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of America. I embraced my mother… tightly as I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world.
After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many, came too late to the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.
Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"… she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could get all your pain and agonies…"
" Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill me… Let me die."
"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it."
God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.
I run to my room and came back with a syringe.
"Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…."
"Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled water…..Mother……
Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water which ended the sufferings of my mother.
Judge me….. Punish me………
GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!!
(Another winning declamation piece. It's good to memorize and good to recite. You will really cry when you will deliver this piece in front of the audience. Find out why.)
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged. Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know me five years ago?
Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed.
Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were glued to the floor.
The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.
We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating,
Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance, vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother.
One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the way to the hide-out.
Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.
But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother before she died.
Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . .
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . . It’s. . . . God’s. . It’s…
(This declamation piece is about a beautiful young girl who was busy preparing herself for a party. When her mother asked for a glass of water, she ignored her mother and went to a party. When she went back home, she saw her mother lying down the floor, dead. Regret always comes in the end.
Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks and a pair of blinkering eyes.
This piece is suited for young girls for it is very easy to memorize.)
Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks and a pair of blinkering eyes.
I remember, somebody says that I look like my mother that I look like my mother. But that when she was young.
Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I must get ready for the party!
Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m coming!
"Child, are you still there?"
"Hmp! That’s my mama"
"Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of cold water?"
"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"
"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water."
"Mama, please, try to get it on your own."
"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water!"
At the party, I danced and danced the whole night. You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have to dance with everybody who proposed to me.
At last, the party is over. I’m very tired. Very, very tired. So, I went home to tell mama what happened.
"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m home!" Nobody answers. Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but she’s not there. Where is she? A-huh! In the kitchen!
I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass on her hand. I remember, she tried to get it.
Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!
Filipinos are good in delivering speeches such as declamation, oration, and even choral recitation and jazz chants. Delivering those speeches are already their talents, hobbies and skills.
Students are also needed to be taught and be trained by their teachers on how to declaim, orate, do the choral recitation and jazz chants properly. Sometimes, a chosen piece will be given to the students for them to memorize and deliver it in front of the class.
This blog will give you the different copies of declamation, oration, speech choir and jazz chants pieces that I have collected. It is very useful to all students who are assigned by their teachers to look for a piece to be performed in the class. It is also also useful to the teachers looking for the best piece to be given to their students. Parents can also view here the best piece that they think suited for their child who joins in different declamation, oration contests, etc.