Asian Journal- The Filipino-American Community Newspaper

It was 1898. Life as Filipinos knew it was about to make a radical turn. The fight for freedom was at its tail’s end, and Spain was losing its grip on the colonies. The execution of propagandist Dr. Jose Rizal had already sparked a collaborative Tagalog revolution under the Supremo’s Katipunan that was to continue till the very edge of the turn of the 20th century. As such, Spanish troops had begun to thin out and funding for war had become scarce. A drastic decision was to be made by the King of Spain: Sell Filipinas, Puerto Rico and Cuba for the sum of $20 million. It was Spain’s sleekest strategy ever. The once powerful Castilian nation was losing the war against the efforts of Filipino patriots to be free. And powerful America—relatively fresh out of the cot after a hundred years of independence—was at the foot of the door, knocking, ready to purchase what can now be said were discarded goods after more than three centuries of abuse and misuse.

Earlier, almost kept out of sight if not for history’s amusing surprises, Jose Rizal wrote a letter to the women of Malolos. That it was written with such candor, wisdom and straightforward awareness revealed only its true intentions: The revelation of the man’s intellectual autobiography. Here, Rizal spoke of character and religion, of love and faith, of courage the women were already known to possess, and of the things these women, whose innocence was well defined, ought to understand amid the wiles of the powers-that-be. Though history is mum to the possibility that there may had been continuing correspondences between Rizal and the women of Malolos, one thing is certain: That single letter was almost prophetic in its declarations, even with Rizal scarcely knowing that Malolos would one day become the cradle of our democracy, the "mother" from which our nation’s Constitution would be born.

Stretched along the Calumpit River laid the beginnings of what was to be the quiet town of Malolos, Bulacan. Spanish missionaries had begun to clear the area of lush growth when they stumbled upon a small barrio of natives already living along the river’s edge. Malolos, a derivative of the word in the native tongue, meaning "downstream," was coined by the Spaniards as the settlement grew. The people were farmers and weavers, diligent to a fault. The Manila-Dagupan railway built in 1892 contributed much to the development of the more than four thousand hectares of what we now know as one of the country’s rice bowls.

What was to be Malolos’ shining moment came in the form of a revolution that was about to take a triumphant leap: To, at last, declare itself free. On July 18, nearly on the eve of the 20th Century, Aguinaldo had sounded the call for a revolutionary congress of some 50 delegates to represent the people in our first attempt at governance. Two months later, the revolutionary congress took place in Barasoain Church in Malolos, Bulacan, complete with an atmosphere that was both jovial and, may it be said, nationalistic. This was to be known later as the famous Malolos Congress where, among other achievements, the declaration of Philippine independence was ratified, the Philippine Constitution was drafted, and war against the United States was declared.