Different image
IT used to be that no one dared stop over at Hacienda Luisita in Tarlac when one went up north, no matter that one wished to picnic al fresco under those giant trees that offered sure protection from the sun. That was Luisita, after all, an exclusive domain of the rich and powerful Cojuangco clan, before which loomed a menacing sentry point.
But that was years ago. By the mid-1990s an altogether different image of Luisita had emerged. The Cojuangcos had opened to the public their estate, or at least that part fronting the highway, right beside those sky-high trees. And so Max's, the house that fried chicken built, came in. And travelers in the thousands dropped in daily for breakfast, lunch, dinner and the in-betweens. Then, too, came Pancake House, which is reportedly packing ‘em in as well.
To the younger Cojuangcos' credit, they've even developed a high-end subdivision, Las Haciendas de Luisita, where members of Central Luzon's elite, including doctors and other professionals, have bought lots and are building their homes. The effervescent Delly Cacho Castillejo, for one, didn't mind being uprooted from posh Alabang and getting resettled right beside the fairways of the Robert Trent Jones-designed Luisita Golf Club. But then, you never know with the old rich.
Tarlac is not just melting pot. It is also half-way point to the beaches of La Union, the old brick churches and houses of Ilocos, the piney breeze of Baguio, and the church of the miraculous Virgin Mary in Manaoag.
More, there's finally something else to do in Tarlac, specifically in Barangay San Miguel in Tarlac City. The Aquino Center was inaugurated, aptly, last Aug. 21. And it offers travelers relaxing after a heavy meal something to do other than walk around the Tex-Mex-inspired Luisita Mall.
I had a look-see one gray November morning. After a good night's sleep at the Microtel Inn & Suites and a brunch of lengua and pasta at the Central Park hotel's Bistro Azucar, I took just a hundred leisurely strides, and I was there.
An impressive steel-concrete-and-glass creation of architect Dan Lichauco, the Center houses the Aquino Museum, an audio-visual room, conference halls, a library, a ballroom, and a suite of offices for the staff of the Benigno Aquino Museum.
Although the Center takes a large slice of the plantation skyline, it seems at home among sugarcane fields, maybe because some portions of its roof evoke an affinity with the traditional Southeast Asian home. Surprisingly, it seems at peace with itself, perhaps like a visionary who realizes that the road to the future can be lonely.
The lobby of the Aquino Center displays four large panels, two of them depicting scenes from the time of the murder of Benigno "Ninoy" Aquino Jr. on Aug. 21, 1983. Another one, a moment of triumph for Corazon Aquino, our first woman president.
Three volunteer guides awaited me at the entrance of the Aquino Museum—Apong Pedro, an old hand of the Cojuangcos, and "fortyniners" Milagros Sioson and Rufina Garcia, so called because they belong to Class ‘49 of the local high school branch of the College of the Holy Spirit.
But I chose to view the exhibit alone. Two clan portraits, of the Cojuangcos and of the Aquinos, greeted me—the first a study in quiet dignity, and the other, in relaxed togetherness, with the subjects appearing giggly, almost boisterous.
But then, that bright, sunshiny mien of the Aquinos was always with Ninoy, who seemed never to lose his humor whether he was lambasting his archenemy at the podium, shaking hands with his constituents, or covering the Korean War as an 18-year-old journalist.
It's all there in the museum—his equipment in Korea, including the original Rollexflex camera, light meter and lens cap; the miniature Legion of Honor that he put on the lapel of his jacket; the medals received from President Ramon Magsaysay when he negotiated the return to the fold of the law of his kabalen, the Huk supremo Luis Taruc.
And more photographs of happy times--like his and Cory's wedding day. Cory the bride was charming, and you can still see the blush more than four decades after the photos were taken.
Ninoy had a charmed youth. The youngest governor, the youngest this and the youngest that. He was a recipient of the Ten Outstanding Young Men Award and the trophy is there at the museum to look at.
As is his poster when he ran for the Senate, which highlighted "Youth, Experience, Hope." A reminder of those glorious days of Philippine politics, it hangs alongside some covers of the weekly Free Press magazine declaring him outstanding senator or Man of the Year.
Remember those bombastic speeches that Ninoy delivered? On display in monograph form are such titles as "Jabida—Special Forces of Evil?" and "The New Partnership," "The New (Im)morality," and yes, "A Pantheon for Imelda," a speech criticizing the Cultural Center of the Philippines.
Imelda Marcos is in the exhibit, too—in a flattering light, even. An issue of the weekly Asia-Philippines Leader magazine had her and Ninoy on the cover, with the blurb "What Will Happen in 1973? Imelda for President (NP) Ninoy for President (LP)."
That could have been reality. But Ferdinand E. Marcos declared martial law, and museum viewers will get to see Ninoy's letter to the dictator telling him that "after 43 days of detention, I still have to be informed of the charges against me."
There are other letters from Ninoy—to the commanding officer of the stockade asking permission to call his son Noynoy on the young man's 16th birthday; to Jaime Cardinal Sin imploring the man of God to lead "our exodus through the desert" with his "deathless legion of kindred spirits, steeped in the belief and in the faith that this life is but a way station in the pilgrim's journey to a world without end"; and to the members of the military tribunal that tried him, challenging them thus: "To acquit me, you have to declare Mr. Marcos guilty. This you cannot do."
Two sections of the museum may well be its major attractions. One, a replica of Ninoy's cell in Fort Bonifacio, contains his bed, typewriter, physical fitness equipment and kitchen utensils. Beside the bed is a "wooden calendar" on which he etched the passing of the days with a nail from 1972 to 1979. A crucifix, passed on to him by Francisco "Soc" Rodrigo when the latter was released, hangs on the wall beside the bed. Also on display are the books that he read while in solitary confinement—among them, "Jesus Rediscovered" by Malcolm Muggeridge, "The Confessions of St. Augustine," The World's Great Thinkers Series, and Austin Coates' "Rizal—Philippine Nationalist and Martyr."
And also, the things that Ninoy wore and brought with him on that fateful flight back to the Philippines on Aug. 21, 1983—the "Marcial Bonifacio" passport, his watch and wedding ring, his boots, and the bloodstained safari suit.
One is also regaled with a cornucopia of mementos from the "People Power" days right after Ninoy's assassination, including two thick books containing the one million signatures that Cory insisted on as a precondition for her seeking the presidency.
Cory's years as president are represented in another long hallway of the museum, where I could not help feeling elated and even overwhelmed in realizing that there is a reward that follows sacrifice.
Her swords as commander of the Army and the Armed Forces are prominently displayed, and so are the gifts from international statesmen that speak of the high esteem they had for the woman leader. To cite a few—a bust of John F. Kennedy from the Kennedy family, a porcelain egg by Boehm from US President George Bush, crystal by Val Lambert from the King and Queen of Belgium, Limoges porcelain from French President Francois Miterrand, and a two-dimensional Nativity scene carved in mother of pearl from Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat.
Alongside Cory in the photograp
|
