I Am a Filipino, by Carlos P.

Romulo

I am a Filipino–inheritor of a glorious past, hostage to the uncertain future. As such I must prove equal to
a two-fold task–the task of meeting my responsibility to the past, and the task of performing my
obligation to the future.

I sprung from a hardy race, child many generations removed of ancient Malayan pioneers. Across the
centuries the memory comes rushing back to me: of brown-skinned men putting out to sea in ships that
were as frail as their hearts were stout. Over the sea I see them come, borne upon the billowing wave
and the whistling wind, carried upon the mighty swell of hope–hope in the free abundance of new land
that was to be their home and their children’s forever.

This is the land they sought and found. Every inch of shore that their eyes first set upon, every hill and
mountain that beckoned to them with a green-and-purple invitation, every mile of rolling plain that their
view encompassed, every river and lake that promised a plentiful living and the fruitfulness of
commerce, is a hallowed spot to me.

By the strength of their hearts and hands, by every right of law, human and divine, this land and all the
appurtenances thereof–the black and fertile soil, the seas and lakes and rivers teeming with fish, the
forests with their inexhaustible wealth in wild life and timber, the mountains with their bowels swollen
with minerals–the whole of this rich and happy land has been, for centuries without number, the land of
my fathers. This land I received in trust from them and in trust will pass it to my children, and so on until
the world is no more.

I am a Filipino. In my blood runs the immortal seed of heroes–seed that flowered down the centuries in
deeds of courage and defiance. In my veins yet pulses the same hot blood that sent Lapulapu to battle
against the first invader of this land, that nerved Lakandula in the combat against the alien foe, that
drove Diego Silang and Dagohoy into rebellion against the foreign oppressor.

That seed is immortal. It is the self-same seed that flowered in the heart of Jose Rizal that morning in
Bagumbayan when a volley of shots put an end to all that was mortal of him and made his spirit
deathless forever, the same that flowered in the hearts of Bonifacio in Balintawak, of Gergorio del Pilar
at Tirad Pass, of Antonio Luna at Calumpit; that bloomed in flowers of frustration in the sad heart of
Emilio Aguinaldo at Palanan, and yet burst fourth royally again in the proud heart of Manuel L. Quezon
when he stood at last on the threshold of ancient Malacañan Palace, in the symbolic act of possession
and racial vindication.

The seed I bear within me is an immortal seed. It is the mark of my manhood, the symbol of dignity as a
human being. Like the seeds that were once buried in the tomb of Tutankhamen many thousand years
ago, it shall grow and flower and bear fruit again. It is the insignia of my race, and my generation is but a
stage in the unending search of my people for freedom and happiness.

I am a Filipino, child of the marriage of the East and the West. The East, with its languor and mysticism,
its passivity and endurance, was my mother, and my sire was the West that came thundering across the
seas with the Cross and Sword and the Machine. I am of the East, an eager participant in its spirit, and in
its struggles for liberation from the imperialist yoke. But I also know that the East must awake from its
centuried sleep, shake off the lethargy that has bound his limbs, and start moving where destiny awaits.

For I, too, am of the West, and the vigorous peoples of the West have destroyed forever the peace and
quiet that once were ours. I can no longer live, a being apart from those whose world now trembles to
the roar of bomb and cannon-shot. I cannot say of a matter of universal life-and-death, of freedom and
slavery for all mankind, that it concerns me not. For no man and no nation is an island, but a part of the
main, there is no longer any East and West–only individuals and nations making those momentous
choices which are the hinges upon which history resolves.

At the vanguard of progress in this part of the world I stand–a forlorn figure in the eyes of some, but not
one defeated and lost. For, through the thick, interlacing branches of habit and custom above me, I have
seen the light of the sun, and I know that it is good. I have seen the light of justice and equality and
freedom, my heart has been lifted by the vision of democracy, and I shall not rest until my land and my
people shall have been blessed by these, beyond the power of any man or nation to subvert or destroy.

I am a Filipino, and this is my inheritance. What pledge shall I give that I may prove worthy of my
inheritance? I shall give the pledge that has come ringing down the corridors of the centuries, and it shall
be compounded of the joyous cries of my Malayan forebears when first they saw the contours of this
land loom before their eyes, of the battle cries that have resounded in every field of combat from
Mactan to Tirad Pass, of the voices of my people when they sing:

Land of the morning,

Child of the sun returning–

****

Ne’er shall invaders

Trample thy sacred shore.

Out of the lush green of these seven thousand isles, out of the heartstrings of sixteen million people all
vibrating to one song, I shall weave the mighty fabric of my pledge. Out of the songs of the farmers at
sunrise when they go to labor in the fields, out of the sweat of the hard-bitten pioneers in Mal-lig and
Koronadal, out of the silent endurance of stevedores at the piers and the ominous grumbling of peasants
in Pampanga, out of the first cries of babies newly born and the lullabies that mothers sing, out of the
crashing of gears and the whine of turbines in the factories, out of the crunch of plough-shares
upturning the earth, out of the limitless patience of teachers in the classrooms and doctors in the clinics,
out of the tramp of soldiers marching, I shall make the pattern of my pledge:

“I am a Filipino born to freedom, and I shall not rest until freedom shall have been added unto my
inheritance—for myself and my children and my children’s children—forever.”

(Reprinted from The Philippines Herald, August 16, 1941)

Source: Philippines Magazine, January 1944http://malacanang.gov.ph/75480-i-am-a-filipino-by-carlos-p-

romulo/

.....

anonima

SALIN NG “I AM A FILIPINO” NI CARLOS P. ROMULO

anonima

1 year ago

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ISA AKONG FILIPINO

Isa akong Filipino─tagapagmana ng isang dakilang kasaysayan at bihag ng hindi tiyak na kinabukasan.
Dahil dito, dapat kong patunayan ang kakayahan kong magampanan ang aking mga tungkulin─ang
responsibilidad ko sa nakaraan at ang obligasyon ko sa hinaharap.

Isinilang ako sa isang matatag na lahi, anak ng mga henerasyong nahiwalay mula sa mga sinaunang
Malay. Rumaragasa, mula sa mga lumipas na siglo, ang mga alaala pabalik sa akin: ng kayumangging
sambayanang nagpalayag ng mga barko sa dagat, na sumakatawan sa mga siksik nilang kalooban.
Natatanaw ko silang paparating mula sa karagatan, niluluwal ng mararahas na alon at mabagsik na
habagat, tangan-tangan ng dambuhalang daluyong ng pag-asa─pag-asa sa kayamanan ng panibagong
lupaing magiging tahanan nila at ng mga anak nila nang magpakailan man.

Ito ang lupang sinubukan nilang kamtin at natagpuan nila. Tinawag sila ng kahabaan ng dalampasigan
nang una nila itong natunghayan, ng lungti at lilang paanyaya ng bawat burol at bundok, ng bawat
kilometro ng mga palayang nakita nila, ng bawat ilog at lawang nangako ng kasaganaan sa buhay at
kaunlaran. Sagrado sa akin ang lahat ng ito.

Nang gamit ang makikisig nilang puso at bisig, at sa pamamagitan ng mga pantao at dibinong karapatan
at batas, ang lupang ito at ang mga pribilehiyo nito─ang maitim at matabang lupa, ang mga dagat, lawa,
at ilog na mayaman sa isda, ang mga kagubatang punong puno ng troso at hayop, ang mga bundok na
busog sa iba’t ibang mineral─ang kabuuan nitong mariwasa at masiglang lupain, sa mga di na mabilang
na siglo, ang tinubuang-lupa ng aking mga ninuno. Ipinagtiwala nila ang lupang ito sa akin at ang siya ring
ipamamana ko sa aking mga anak hanggang sa kadulu-duluhan ng daigdig.

Isa akong Filipino. Dumadaloy ang mga imortal na punla ng mga bayani sa dugo ko─ang pinamulaklak na
punla ng pagpapamalas ng lakas ng loob at pagtutol sa mga nagdaang siglo. Nasa ugat ko ang mainit na
dugong nagtulak kay Lapulapung labanan ang mga unang mananakop ng lupaing ito, ang gumalit kay
Lakandula nang makipagsagupaan sa mga banyagang katunggali, ang nag-udyok kina Diego Silang at
Dagohoy na maghimagsik laban sa mga mapang-aping dayuhan.
Imortal ang punlang ito. Ito ang punlang yumabong sa puso ni Jose Rizal nang umagang pinaslang ng
mga pumutok na baril ang katawan niya sa Bagumbayan at ginawang imortal ang kaluluwa niya, ang
umusbong sa puso ni Bonifacio sa Balintawak, ni Gregorio del Pilar sa Tirad Pass, at ni Antonio Luna sa
Calumpit; ang mga namulaklak na kabiguan sa malungkot na puso ni Emilio Aguinaldo sa Palanan, at ang
magiting na silakbo sa matagumpay na puso ni Manuel L. Quezon noong natungtungan niya ang lumang
palasyo ng Malacañang, ang simbolikong gawi ng muling pag-aari at pagsalba sa lahi.

Imortal ang punlang dala-dala ng kalooban ko. Tanda ito ng aking pagkatao, ang simbolo ng dignidad
bilang isang kagalang-galang na nilalang. Tulad ng mga nakalibing na punla sa puntod ng Tutankhamen
ilang milenya nang nakalipas, muli itong uusbong, mamumulaklak, at magbibigay bunga. Ito ang tatak ng
aking lahi, at ang henerasyon ko ay isang entablado kung saan hindi ko hahayaang maudlot ang pagkamit
at pag-abot ng kalayaan at sigla ng aking mga kapuwa Filipino.

Isa akong Filipino, anak ng magkabiyak na Silangan at Kanluran. Ang Silangan, sa kaniyang katamlayan at
hiwaga, at pagkalugmok at tiyaga, ang aking ina, at ang Kanluran ang ama kong dumagundong mula sa
karagatan nang dala ang Krus, Sandata, at Makina. Isang taga-Silangan, isa akong hindi mapakaling
kalahok sa espiritu nito, at sa kahirapan ng paghanap ng kalayaan mula sa imperyo. Ngunit, alam ko ring
kinakailangang gumising ng Silangan mula sa kaniyang tulog at himbing, at tanggalin ang pananamlay sa
kaniyang mga binti, at simulang pakilusin ang naghihintay na tadhana.

Ako rin ay bahagi ng Kanluran, at winasak ng makisig na sangkatauhan ng Kanluran ang kapayapaan at
katahimikang dating nasa atin. Hindi ko kayang mamuhay nang hiwalay mula sa daigdig na ngayon ay
niyuyugyog ng bala at pasabog. Hindi ko maaaring sabihing hindi ako parte ng buhay at kamatayan sa
sanlibutan, at ng kalayaan at pagkaalipin ng lahat. Dahil walang bayang nag-iisa, lahat ay bahagi ng
nakalalaking mundo, walang Silangan at Kanluran─mayroon lang mga indibiduwal at bansang
nagpupursiging kumilos nang dakila upang lutasin ang mga suliranin ng kasaysayan.

Kasama kong tumindig ang hukbong nagtutulak ng kaunlaran─isang nakalulungkot na nilalang sa mga
mata ng ilan, ngunit hindi ako bigo. Dahil, sa likod ng kinalakihan ko at mga nagdugtong-dugtong na
sanga ng kasaysayan, nakita ko ang sinag ng araw, at alam kong ikabubuti ko ito. Nadatnan ko ang
liwanag ng katarungan, karapatan, at kalayaan, inangat ng imahen ng demokrasya ang aking loob, at
hinding hindi ako mamamahinga hanggang sa mabiyayaan ang aking mga kapuwa ng aking natuklasan,
ang nakahihigit sa kahit ano pang puwersa ng tao o bansang mapaminsala at mapangwasak.
Isa akong Filipino at ito ang aking minana. Ano ang ipapangako ko nang sa mapatunayan kong
karapatdapat ako sa aking mga namana? Iaalay ko ang isang pangakong dadagundong mula sa mga
nagdaang siglo, at sasamahan ito ng masasayang hikbi ng mga sinaunang Malay noong una nilang
natanaw ang mga guhit sa lupa, ng malalakas na sigaw ng sagupaan mula sa Mactan hanggang sa Tirad
Pass, ng tinig ng sambayan sa tuwing umaawit sila:

Bayang Magiliw,

Perlas ng Silanganan…

Sa manlulupig,

Di ka pasisiil.

Mula sa masaganang kaluntian ng pitong libong mga isla, mula sa puso ng labing-anim na milyong taong
umaawit sa iisang kanta, ihahabi ko ang makisig na hibla ng aking pangako. Mula sa mga awitin ng mga
magbubukid tuwing bukang-liwayway sa pagkayod nila sa mga palayan, mula sa pawis ng mga naghihirap
sa Mal-lig at Koronadal, mula sa tahimik na pagpupursigi ng mga kargador sa piyer at sa mga
nakahihindik at galit na bulong ng mga magsasaka sa Pampanga, mula sa mga unang pag-iyak ng mga
kasisilang lang na sanggol at mga oyayi ng kanilang mga ina, mula sa gumagaralgal na mekanismo sa mga
pagawaan, mula sa mga inaararo, nadurog, at umangat na kalupaan, mula sa walang hanggang pasensiya
ng mga guro sa mga silid-aralan at mga doktor sa mga klinika, mula sa mga yabag ng mga
nagmamartsang sundalo, ihahabi ko ang aking pangako:

“Isa akong Filipinong ipinanganak nang malaya, at hinding hindi ako mamamahinga hanggang sa
madagdag ang kalayaan sa aking mga mamanahin─para sa akin, sa mga anak ko, at sa mga anak ng mga
anak ko─nang magpakailan man.”

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...

Plot

I am Filipino is a literary work of Carlos P. Romulo and it focuses the great desire of Filipinos having their
own freedom. When Philippines was colonized by three countries it seems like the colonization is never
ending. But there are brave fellowmen who fight for the flag and never give up getting the freedom that
Filipinos deserve. The whole essays point is to be proud of being a Filipino and love the country.

....

I am a Filipino by Carlos P. Romulo is a beautifully written piece of literary work that expresses the
writer's love and devotion to his country, the Philippines. This piece also expresses throughout how
being a Filipino and embracing the Filipino culture, history, etc is so much a part of Romulo and many if
not most of his compatriots.

Romulo begins by paying homage to his for-bearers and the land that they first set foot on. He also states
that because of the influence of both the east and the west, the Philippines must wake up and embrace
it's destiny....to meet the west (possibly in war). He ends the article by stating that he will fight to keep
his country free just as his ancestors did. See the related links for the text of the article.