Teresa Magbanua Part 2 - Rise
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There’s no normal way of starting this episode, I suppose.
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Because this story has to begin amidst a war of some sort. The Philippine Revolution was starting to brew, though the Spanish were quick to call it the Tagalog War for whatever reason they might have had. Despite the name, it was more wide spread across the archipelago than that name might imply. This wasn’t one group fighting against the Spanish. Really, it was everyone. But to the Spanish, there was no sort of nuance in identity. There was them--the noble and great colonizers bringing true civilization and prosperity to the islands--and there were the people of the islands who should be so eager to accept such a gift. And sure, you had some shades of grey amidst it all, but that’s not typically how naming conventions work. It’s normally the majority deciding things like this.
There’s an entire story to be told about that declaration. I’ve linked one such record of the account--though secondary but full of explanations--in the show notes as source one.
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But here’s the part of the story that you do need to hear. The Philippine Revolution began when the Spanish authorities discovered the Katipunan, a secret organization whose influence across the islands made them… Not quite a governmental body, yet, but it was clear that they were preparing to be such. This was in August of 1896 when the organization was led by Andrés Bonifacio.
Now this discovery did not come from a misplaced note or a spy that got lucky and found something he shouldn’t have otherwise been able to. This was the product of a declaration of sorts from the Katipunan, a rejection of the Spanish rule in favor of their revolutionary government, and of course that was a declaration of nation-wide armed rebellion. And that’s what they meant. That was that.
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Our story from there needs to shift over. Teresa Magbanua was a member of the Katipunan. As early as 1894, the Katipunan had a women's chapter. But now don’t get too excited. This wasn’t a grand push for equality. By all accounts, there was some hesitation involved. After all, this was to be an army, and there were many men who didn’t think women should be involved in the fighting at all. Which was the sort of thing that would have hit close to home for Nanay Isa. Maybe too close when considering her tale. But regardless, there was this sense in which… Well, it was realized that even if you excluded women from the battle front, there was still a place for them in the struggle against the Spanish, so they were included. Albeit reluctantly. And source 2 would have a far more detailed explanation than that.
But this is where Nanay Isa found herself, immersed in a movement that accepted her with a sense of reluctance and never for the mission she knew she was meant to partake in. Because that’s just it or that’s just what I think it is. I think Nanay Isa had an inclination for action and fighting that no one really anticipated from a woman at the time.
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The war was immediate, yes. From the moment that declaration was made, confrontation was inevitable, but it spread somewhat slowly. It wasn’t until October of 1898 that the war reached the Iloilo province, and Teresa watched as her two brothers join the revolutionary army. A family inclination, I would call it, considering their uncle was commanding the Northern Zone at the time.
Maybe it’s a bold thing to assert that some things do travel down family lines, but this isn’t a case of assuming that the soldier’s heart is in the blood. For Teresa, it was in the air too. It was in the air after so many frustrations and hurts inflicted upon the Filipino people by the Spanish colonizers.
There wasn’t a real rebuttal that could be offered in that situation. There was no pushing back. Teresa was infected by that same military fervor, and there was no going back.
But by then, she was a married woman, and so she had to ask her husband’s permission to enter the conflict. As was custom if not her desire. Oh who are we kidding? There was no way it was her desire. It was what was expected of her. And when he told her no, she was supposed to obey, but she did not. She couldn’t accept that, and she was the sort of person who would easily throw her weight behind her convictions without hesitation. And, as her sister remembered her, Teresa wasn’t the type to trim her heart to suit the preferences of any man: marriage or no.
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But then again, her husband might not be the villain of this tale. Who is to say, really? Though I certainly see why people would make that conclusion. There’s certainly fodder for that interpretation. Here you have a woman who is asking because she has to ask, as part of a social dance everyone is expected to go to, and the man who loves her would see the writing on the walls. He would see that her desires were earnest and that her life could not be about him. He would see that he had no business denying her and denying their nation her talents. And yet, he tried to stand in her way.
Their marriage had not, at that point, produced any children. It never would. But what’s relevant here is that this man didn’t even have the lives of those in his care to think about. Having lost a parent myself, I know how much that stings. I know how that cuts a child to their core, so if he were to ask her to restrain herself for their sake, I’d be more sympathetic. I think a lot of us would be, but that’s not the case. Instead, we’re left with a blank space in the narrative. His motivations are still somewhat a mystery. Maybe because there really wasn’t a good reason. Only fear and dread. Or only a self-ish desire for some sense of normalcy while the rest of the world came undone. Maybe.
No story ever makes it through the ages with all of its details intact. This was one of those that fell away.
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Teresa would not be deterred. She went to her general uncle and asked him to join the army under his command. Indirectly.
Certainly her family would come through for her. Certainly they would understand her desires and support her. Certainly they would understand why she could not say she had her husband’s blessing. Or maybe they wouldn’t care at all.
And once again, there was hesitation on the general’s behalf, but he did not hesitate in the same that her husband did. He did not deny her in the end is what I mean. He did give her a command. Of a battalion of bolo troops.
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I should explain what a bolo is. For the sake of this podcast about Filipino culture and for the sake of this story.
For someone who is not familiar, a bolo knife would simply be a machete. Bolos are, after all, just long knives with a curvature that widens at the tip to help it draw momentum from gravity as it is swung. The handle is normally wood or made of animal horn. With the curvature and the handle being as hardy as it is, you would feel confident in your assumption. After all, you’ve seen a machete before, but that’s the only type of knife you might be aware of that is large enough and designed to clear away vegetation, but the bolo knife--from its use in the Philippine Revolution--has taken on a more important symbolic role than any other knife could ever do.
The bolo knife started off just as a farming implement. It was used to clear away jungles and could even plough the fields peasants, as they were considered, were left in charge of. Sure, they were fierce tools, even deadly in the wrong hands, but they were necessary. And that meant they were everywhere. That meant that for a revolution seeped into the very soil the peasants work, the tools that worked said soil were to become the weapons of a war.
The conflict did spread beyond the public gathering when revolution was declared, and in time, entire nation was up in arms now. Or up in the best arms they had.
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Bolo knives were really the only reliable weapon available to the Filipinos, I would say. This was a weapon firmly entrenched in their hands. These were knives that they used for everything. How difficult would it be to use them for liberation as well? But that’s not a fair question. It was the only choice they had, really.
Teresa’s shooting skills were valuable skills, yes. They were a blessing for her to have. But the ability to learn such a thing was a privilege that her soldiers did not share. Though certainly, it was something the Spanish had in spades.
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There’s something I always noticed about my mothers hose fought her own, very different battles after being widowed in a foreign country with a young daughter. Namely that she never admits when she is struggling. Now, sure, I’m a lot taller when my mom, so when she needs to get the extra spices or rice from the top shelf, she’ll quickly yell for me to help. There’s no hesitation there, but I can’t remember her ever mentioning the sadness and hurt that must have come from my dad dying. She will usually say that she doesn’t remember the year after it happened. And I don’t know if I believe her.
When I first learned the term ‘stoic’ I was in high school. And I immediately attached it to her and her reaction to this and all trials she had to experience in life. And now, I’m left wondering if Teresa Magbanua had the same reaction my mother did. If she--looking out on her troops, knowing, what the Spanish could bring silently wondered if they had enough will or fortitude to make it through.
Seems like a good historical drama, right? But this is one of those stories that doesn’t get told often enough. Unfortunately.
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This has been a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. Thanks for listening! Find more information about our shows at miscellanymedia.online or follow us on Twitter @miscellanymedia for updates on current and future projects.
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Sources:
Guererro, Milagros; Encarnacion, Emmanuel; Villegas, Ramon (1996), "Andres Bonifacio and the 1896 Revolution", Sulyap Kultura, National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 1 (2): 3–12, archived from the original on 2010-11-15, retrieved 2009-07-08. https://web.archive.org/web/20101115193832/http://www.ncca.gov.ph/about-culture-and-arts/articles-on-c-n-a/article.php?i=5&subcat=1
Lanzona, V. A. (2012). Amazons of the Huk Rebellion: Gender, Sex, and Revolution in the Philippines. Manila: Quezon city Ateneo de Manila University.
3. https://cnnphilippines.com/life/culture/2017/06/07/5-filipino-heroines.html