Ermita: Faithful to you, in our own fashion
http://news.inq7.net/metro/index.php?index=1&story_id=76567
By Amadis Ma. Guerrero
Inquirer
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints/Even then when we sit idly by in the sun. –Shakespeare
FEBRUARY 1945. ERMITA DISTRICT, Manila. The war had caught families by surprise, although there had been warnings that the Americans would be returning, and that hostilities would resume.
The Holocaust descended upon south Manila, and the districts of Intramuros, Ermita and Malate went up in flames. In an evacuation center, as I was told by my mother several years later, a giddy American GI was confused as to the gender of the baby – namely myself — in front of him. And so Maria, my indignant yaya, uncovered my swaddling clothes to satisfy his curiosity.
Japanese soldiers tried to abduct the pretty youngest sister of my father. Years later, I listened as an aunt-in-law recounted the story to my grandmother and to the aunt in question: “No te sacaron los Japoneses porque derepente cambio tu cara. Te quedaste muy fea. Era un milagro (The Japanese did not get to you because your face suddenly changed. You became very ugly. It was a miracle).”
There was a kind Japanese soldier whom, for some reason, we called Toalla Verde (Green Towel). He was the only kind Japanese soldier we encountered.
An uncle-in-law involved in the underground was beaten to death by the Japanese near the Masonic Temple and his body thrown into a common grave along with thousands of others. My father, a doctor, was missing forever. There was not even a grave to remember him by, only photos from the 1930s.
After 61 years, we still cannot forget the images of war and destruction, although I suppose we should forgive.
Leaving home
Their ancestral homes destroyed, their pianos and paintings reduced to embers, the families, one by one, left Ermita — the home of the clan since the early 19th century — and went to other districts and nearby San Juan and Mandaluyong, in what was then the province of Rizal.
In the years and decades that followed, snooty Ermita changed, propelled by migration from the provinces. What had been “the most charming borough” of the “gentle, gracious city” of Manila, as an aunt put it in an essay, became a red-light district with sleazy bars said to be owned by the Australian Mafia.
It took a feisty mayor of Manila, Alfredo Lim (now a senator) to clean up the district. The other day, to rediscover my roots, so to speak, I went on a promenade to Ermita, which stretches from the Luneta (Rizal Park) to Calle Herran (Pedro Gil).
The old Gaiety Theater, where we used to watch movies as children, stood forlorn and dilapidated. There’s Calle Cinco, where the late National Artist Nick Joaquin used to hang around with his police pals. A medium-size hotel had closed down, its pavement providing shelter for a mother and her sleeping kids. One of the few surviving landmarks is the original high-rise building (what we used to call “skyscrapers”), green and white with awnings; it is now a condominium named after a taipan.
The old parish church, dedicated to Nuestra Señora de Guia, was destroyed during the war and rebuilt in 1947, as a plaque in Spanish informs the pilgrim. A second plaque in Filipino (by the National Historical Commission) notes that the church was first constructed in 1606. Finally, a third plaque in English declares that the parish had been elevated to an “Archdiocese Shrine” in December 2005 by the Archbishop of Manila, Gaudencio B. (now Cardinal) Rosales, D.D.
In front of the church is the Plaza de Nuestra Señora de Guia. There are men playing chess or sleeping, women chatting and children frolicking in the playground. The US Embassy looms ominously in the background.
Historical landmarks
The plaza has landmarks to three of my forebears: my grandfather Fernando Ma. Guerrero (1873-1929), lyric poet and revolutionary journalist, “El Maestro”; his brother Dr. Manuel S. Guerrero (1877-1919), who discovered the cause of beri-beri among infants; and my uncle, (the second) Leon Ma. Guerrero (1915-1982), diplomat, author, lawyer and journalist.
Around the church and plaza swirl the two teeming thoroughfares A. Mabini and M. H. del Pilar, with their resto-bars, cafés, eateries, money changers, savings banks, videoke bars, billiards halls, shops and inns. Along Roxas (Dewey) Boulevard stand the standard and deluxe tourist hotels.
Ermita remains congested and highly commercialized. It has long ceased to be what it was during the time of my parents and grandparents. Nevertheless, to paraphrase the English poet, we who were born and raised (if not razed) in the old district, remain faithful to you, Ermita, in our fashion.
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