The Eternal Light (Oratorical Piece)

Dr. Jose P. Rizal

A Candle is a small thing.But one candle can light one another.And as it gives its flame to other,see how its own light… increases!

You are such as a light.

Light is the power to dispel darkness.

You have this power to move back the darkness in yourself and in others–with the birth of light created when one mind illuminates another, when one heart kindles another, when one man strengthens another.

And its flame also enlarges within you as you pass on!

Throughout the history, ... Children of Darknesshave tried to smother this passage of light from man to man.

Throughout the history; Dictators, large and small, have tried-... to darken, ...to diminish, ...and to separate men by force!But... always in the end, ... they fail!

For always somewhere in the world the Light remains!... ready to burn its brightest where it is dark;... a Light that began when God created the world!

"... Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment..." --Psalm 104

And every free people has remained free!...free by resisting those who would extinguish in men... the Light of Freedom, of Love, and of Truth!

To do Our daily part to increase this Light,We must remember that a candle alone... is a small thing,a man alone... is a small thing,and a nation alone... is a very small thing.

Remembering this... ,We must recognize something much more than our indispensability to others.We must also remember Their indispensability to us.

For how can we hope-- either as individuals or nations... to reach our maximum...'till we help those around us reach theirs?

To be strong, the strong must serve!

Copyright © 2009 by J. EstoqueAll Rights Reserved

Vengeance is not Ours; It's God's! (Declamation Piece)

Anonymous

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy.I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged.

Why are you staring at me?With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know me five years ago?

Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed.

Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were glued to the floor.

The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us. Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.

We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating,

Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance, vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the way to the hide-out.

Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.

But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother before she died.

Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter.

That was five years ago, five years. . . .

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s... It’s... God’s... It's...

Copyright © 2009 by J. EstoqueAll Rights Reserved

Land of Bondage, Land of the Free (Oratorical Piece)

Raul S. Manglapus

Once upon a time, the *tao owned a piece of land. It was all he owned. But he cherished it, for it gave him three things, having which, he was content: life, first of all, and liberty, and happiness.

Then one day the Spaniard came and commanded him to pay tribute to the crown of Spain. The tao paid tribute. And he was silent — he was certain that he was still the master of his land.

The Spaniard became rich. But with riches, evil entered into him and he came to the tao a second time. He read to the tao a formidable document saying: “According to this decreto real, which unfortunately you cannot read, this that you have been paying me is not tribute but rent, for the land is not yours but mine.”The tao paid tribute and said nothing … He ceased to be a freeman. He became a serf. Still the tao held his peace. The rent went up and up. The tao starved.

And this time at last he spoke. Not in words, but with that rustic instrument with which he cleared the land once his own — the *bolo. He transformed it from an instrument of tillage to an instrument of death, and with it drove away the stranger. Then he returned to his field saying: “Now indeed shall I again be master of this land, once my own, but stolen from me by the trickery of quicker wits than mine.”

But the tao was wrong. For the land had another master. This time not a stranger, but his own countryman grown rich. The tao had a new name, kasama, which to us means "partner", but which to the tao meant still a slave, for once more he suffered from his countrymen the same things he had suffered from the stranger: the rents, the usury, and all the rest of it.

Yes, the tao returned to his field thinking that he was free. But he soon discovered that he was still a prisoner. His prison, a two-room shack, rent by every wind, without any comforts, except that three families have there the privilege to starve. The tao’s home has become his very prison. Its doors, if you can call them such, are wide open. It is a prison nonetheless. For the tao is bound to it, not with chains of steel, but with a stronger chain — his honor. To this day, the tao remains a slave, a prisoner of the usurer.

No wonder, then that tao, being a slave, has acquired the habits of a slave! No wonder that after three centuries in chains, without freedom, without hope, he should lose the erect and fearless posture of the freeman, and become the bent, misshapen, indolent, vicious, pitiful thing that he is! Who dares accuse him, who dares rise up in judgement against this man, reduced to this sub-human level by three centuries of oppression. The tao does not come here tonight to be judged — but to judge! Hear then his accusation and his sentence:

I indict the Spanish encomendero for inventing taxes impossible to bear!

I indict the usurer for saddling me with debts impossible to pay!

I indict the irresponsible radical leaders who undermine, with insidious eloquence, the confidence of my kind in our government.

You accuse me of not supporting my family. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false!

You accuse me of ignorance. But I am ignorant because my master finds it profitable to keep me ignorant. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false!

You accuse me of indolence. But I am indolent not because I have no will, but because I have no hope. Why should I labor, if all the fruits of my labor go to pay an unpayable debt. Free me from bondage, and I shall prove you false!

Give me land. Land to own. Land unbeholden to any tyrant. Land that will be free. Give me land for I am starving. Give me land that my children may not die. Sell it to me, sell it to me at a fair price, as one freeman sells to another and not as a usurer sells to a slave. I am poor, but I will pay it! I will work, work until I fall from weariness for my privilege, for my inalienable right to be free!

BUT IF YOU WILL NOT GRANT ME THIS … If you will not grant me this last request, this ultimate demand, then build a wall around your home … build it high! … build it strong! Place a sentry on every parapet! … for I who have been silent these three hundred years will come in the night when you are feasting, with my cry and my bolo at your door. And may God have mercy on your soul!

*Footnote:Tao - Filipino Term for "Man"Bolo - A Native Filipino Sword

Copyright © 2009 by J. EstoqueAll Rights Reserved

"Passionate Filipino Sentiments!" (Oratorical Piece)

Jm Benavidez Estoque

From whence shall we trust? No one… but from ourselves! From whence shall we stand upon? No one… but from our very own feet!

My dear fellow brethren… when would be the time for us to be strong! … To be independent among to ourselves! When would be this right time when I see… when I see within ourselves, fellow brothers, uniting for a common dream! … And sharing for a common goal!

Are we not tired enough to see our Filipino pride, that was once so called Pearl of the Orient, being trampled, crushed and trodden? In our own very heart, is it not enough to see our beloved nation?- the flesh of our flesh whose fervent desires runs our passions that had long been sleeping for centuries; a sacred dignity … being just disgraced by ourselves? Whose from our pride blood stained with lies, corruption and deception?!

When is the time for us to change?! When would be this proper time for us to soar again amidst the greatness of our forefathers?!

Where are those bright minds? Where are those passionate hearts? Where are those who in their lives we could see the love for one’s nation?!

Where are those, the youth? …The so-called bright morrows of our nation? Where are those brave hearts whose deep in their veins lies the fervent honor and nationalism?! Where are you?! I’ve long been waiting for you?!

How long can we endure, these deprived sentiments?... the burdens of our soul, the sorrows of the heart?!

How long can we bear, this stains that hath long been mortifying our passionate desires?! …The dream of our dreams?

How long can we keep deep within our chaotic minds and long can we buried it in our confused hearts, the laments, the mourning and the sufferings of our mother land?!

Oh! Rise ye nation! I pray thee! You must rise again! You are a child of Eden! In your blood runs the cradle of noble heroes!

Oh rise thee, beloved mother! For long have you been suffered and enslaved, now must be the time… for you to rise again! …and to soar again long of the deep bright clouds that long you’d been yearning!

Copyright © 2009 by J. EstoqueAll Rights Reserved

Killing Myself!* (Oration Piece)Chelyn Torejas

Diverse people from diverse places have once come to colonize our country. Literatures and pictures stand as a witness of how we endure, struggle and fight that yields forth of what we regard today as history.

At the heart of our country carves an era that manifolds through the regimes of Spanish occupation, Japanese conquistadors, American colonialism onwards to the Birth of World Wars. And the fruit of these all is my unique individuality. I am the child of the west and east combined.

I am a product of so many revolutions. For a time, I was blinded from what is real. For centuries I was enslaved by people of different blood, color and race.

Spanish colonizers use religion as an excuse to earn the hearts of my race. They taught me to embrace poverty as a virtue and exposed me to learn gambling and even cock-fighting.

The blond, tall Americans poisoned our way through education. The whites instilled in me to follow “adversial” communication hitting my country badly. Their tactic of “dividing and rule” has resulted to the regionalistic division we still have today.

The arrival of Japanese has even caused tremendous fears, hardships and pain.

For a time, I have seen the harsh realities filled with chaos, propaganda, hatred, vengeance, wars, hidden agenda, corruption, greed, lust and every devilish deeds. But Lo and behold, a new one has come.

I am killing myself. Killing the old Filipino. Within me, came rushing out the stinking blood of every devilish deeds. My heart has stopped pumping the music of deception. My lungs has totally exhaled every waste I have inside.

I am a new Filipino. I am bound to make a living history beyond a legend and a real history in the making that will continue to unfold through time.

The new revolution has given me true victory, a victory by which I am longing for long and the solution is not through war. This revolution has not been fought in the streets. It will be fought in hearts of men.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided. Knowing the present would mean understanding the past.

I am a new Filipino gaining wisdom from the past. Gone is the Filipino Indolence, beholding to erase the crab mentality, further eradicating my colonial mentality.

A new Filipino I am. In my blood runs the infitisimal seed of heroic deeds for the sake of the heavenly and for the benefit of the majority. The seed that drive away the oppressors and the seed that will further cleanse the filthiness of this country.

I will search the unkown. I will continue to dream my dreams wishing upon the stars and will never say never. I will continue to move on, to rise up towards the direction of a glorious tomorrow.

To look on the present onwards the future and to scale how my new country will develop will serve as an inspiration that is worth and is bound to be followed.

What the people today endures, struggles, and fight towards progress will continually mold a state of a new history –a bright history that is enough to urge individuals to continue to endure, struggle and fight for action and be a winner in running the race that is set before us, worthy to be repetitively told and retold. A transparent history free from thwarted truths.

Out of me are the voices of the unheard, the pictures of the unseen, the cries of the deaf and the truth that is ignored. I am but a dream but will stand to prove that this dream is becoming a reality.

I am killing myself. Killing the old Filipino. Killing the old me, building a new identity, erasing the undesirable assimilation from my past, picking the best experience I have before. A new Filipino I am, worthy to behold.

My eyes have been opened and I can see better now. I am a product of bloodshed, A new Filipino --free indeed, dreamer and the inheritor of a fruitful tomorrow. To live is to die. Thus, I am killing myself!

*The Following Oration is Re-Published with the Consent and Permission from the Original Author of the Piece and as well as http://chelyntorejas.blogspot.com/2007/11/oration-piece.html as its source

Copyright © 2009 by J. EstoqueAll Rights Reserved

azz Chants

These little jewels help non-native speakers get the "feel" of American English. The student learns the stress, rhythm and intonation patterns by "doing" them. It's a very effective and enjoyable way to learn.

Check out Carolyn Graham's book Jazz Chants. It can be a great help in your classroom. Be sure to get her accompanying tape cassette, as it will give you the sense of jazz, timing and fun that must accompany them. (Address given below.)

Steps in teaching a jazz chant:

1. Be sure students know all the key vocabulary.2. Write the chant on the board.3. Read the entire chant to the class.4. Read one line at a time and have students repeat the line until they can say

most of the words.5. Add the rhythm (clapping, marching, pounding the table or a drum).

Let the class do the rhythm and say it at the same time.6. Let "soloists" say it while everyone else claps.

azz Chant #1Here is a jazz chant I wrote after my trip to Costa Rica. You can insert any

country or place instead of "Costa Rica" or "California." You model the first line and the students repeat it. Just snap your fingers or clap your hands to 4/4 time and chant away:

I went to Costa Rica one fine day.I went to Costa Rica one fine day.

And what did I find?What did I find?

Warm, loving people with hearts so kind,Warm, loving people with hearts so kind.

I have a class in California yes I do.I have a class in California yes I do.

And what do I find?What do I find?

Warm, loving people with hearts so kind,Warm, loving people with hearts so kind.

I do, I do, I do, do, do.I do, I do, I do, do, do.

After the chant has been learned, divide into two groups.Group 1 chants the poem: "I went to Costa Rica one fine day..."Group 2 chants: "Warm people, Loving people, Hearts so kind."

azz Chant #2

The Good SamaritanLesson 5, Book 1

Chorus:Walkin', walkin', walkin' down the road.Walkin', walkin', walkin' down the road.

1. I'm going to Jerusalem, walkin' down the road.Peace in my heart, not a care in the world.

Chorus

2. Along  came some robbers, beat me on the head.

Took all my money, left me for dead.

Chorus

3. Along  came a rich man, dressed so fine.Stuck his nose in the air, he didn't have the time.

Chorus

4. Along  came a poor man with a heart so kind.He took one look at me and changed his mind.

Chorus

5. He put me on his donkey, took me into town.True friend, true friend, couldn't let me down.

Fade out: True friend, true friend, couldn't let me down.

True friend, true friend, couldn't let me down.True friend, true friend, couldn't let me down.True friend, true friend, couldn't let me down.