BEING an Ilocano myself, and having grown up knowing much of our history and language, I take great pride in having read F. Sionil José’s Po-on (Dusk), the first novel in the five-book series The Rosales Saga. Reading it evoked the same profound sense of pride I felt, as a Filipino and a member of the Malay race, after finishing the English translations of Noli Me Tángere and El Filibusterismo, the two classic masterpieces by José Rizal.
While the setting of Rizal’s companion novels is the fictional town of San Diego, the issues they raise transcend any specific locale. They depict the collective struggle of Filipinos against the abuses of the Spanish friars and expose the deep-seated ambivalence of the local ruling class. It was a snapshot of a time when the Philippines was still under the colonial thumb of Mother Spain.
Sionil José’s Po-on, on the other hand, begins in Cabugao, Ilocos Sur—my home province—before shifting its focus to Rosales, Pangasinan, the author’s birthplace. The narrative initially captures the plight of the Ilocanos at the hands of cruel Spanish officials during the twilight of their regime, before moving into the dawn of the American conquest following the Spanish-American War. Ultimately, the heart of the novel delivers a powerful message regarding nationalism and the very definition of our identity as Filipinos.
The novels of both Rizal and Sionil José confront the harsh realities of poverty, broken governance, and human rights abuses during the colonial era, aiming their sharpest criticisms at the corrupt, potbellied friars who oppressed the native population. However, while Noli and Fili view these struggles through the eyes of an ilustrado (Crisostomo Ibarra, later transformed into Simoun the jeweler), Po-on approaches history through the perspective of a poor indio named Istak (Eustaquio Salvador/Samson). Istak is forced to lead his family on a desperate exodus from Ilocos to Pangasinan to escape the wrath of the authorities after his father kills a tyrannical parish priest. The family's tragedy-laden journey draws a striking parallel to Tom Joad’s family in John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath—they eventually reach their promised land, but only after making immense sacrifices in the name of duty.
Moved by the powerful, intense narration of Po-on, I felt a sudden pang of conscience. I regretted having read so few emotionally charged works by our own nationalist authors—stories that truly reflect our past, our present, and our future. Before discovering Po-on and Rizal’s twin novels, my exposure was limited to Gagamba (also by Sionil José), Ilustrado by Miguel Syjuco, and an anthology of short stories by the Mindoro native N.V.M. Gonzalez. Yet, none of those works spoke so directly to the history of the resilient and frugal Ilocano people like Po-on does.
We Ilocanos are scattered across all corners of the country and the globe, accounting for a vast majority of Filipino immigrants worldwide. People often say this diaspora is a result of our geography. The Ilocos Region, or Ilocandia, is one of the narrowest strips of land in the country. Sandwiched between the West Philippine Sea and the rugged Cordillera mountain range, the region offers very little arable land for a highly industrious population. Surviving in such a harsh geographical environment is a challenge. It is no wonder we are stereotyped with traits vital for survival: tenacious industry, perseverance, resilience, frugality, and a pioneering spirit. Because space is at a premium, Ilocanos are almost duty-bound to migrate in search of better opportunities, working not just for themselves, but to uplift their entire clans.
In Po-on, Sionil José highlights a darker catalyst for this migration: the political persecution of Ilocano indios under Spanish rule. Long before Istak’s story took place, the Spaniards found the Ilocos region incredibly difficult to tame. Ilocanos were among the first ethnic groups to stage organized revolts against colonial authorities. Two of our nation's most remarkable uprisings occurred there: the Basi Revolt of 1807 and the 1762–1763 rebellion led by the lion-hearted Diego Silang of Aringay, which was bravely carried on by his wife, Gabriela Silang, after his assassination. The Silang revolt, prominently mentioned in Po-on, was fueled by deep grievances against Spanish taxation and abuses. Though short-lived, those early uprisings set a precedent that wouldn't be mirrored again until the final decades of Castilian rule during Istak’s lifetime.
Even though an exceptional, kind-hearted friar raises young Istak like a son—teaching him how to pray, write, and speak Spanish and Latin—the colonial system generally forbids indios from entering the priesthood. Thus, despite his advanced education, Istak is forced to return to his family to work the soil. Misfortune strikes when his father, Ba-ac, begs the town's new priest to admit his son to the seminary. During their argument, Ba-ac realizes this new friar is the exact same man who had previously ordered his arrest and brutal punishment—hanging him by his arms—on a false accusation of malingering from forced road labor. In a flash of blind rage, Ba-ac strikes and kills the priest with a heavy crucifix.
The family is forced to flee instantly, taking hidden back roads to evade Spanish guards. Traveling alongside other displaced relatives who have been driven off their ancestral lands, they become fugitives. Along the perilous trail, they cross paths with feared tulisanes (bandits) and brutal Spanish patrol officers. Amidst these harrowing dangers, the story weaves poignant threads of love and devotion—particularly between Istak and Dalin, his devoted wife and savior—while celebrating family solidarity and traditional values.
By the end of the novel, the narrative shifts to the arrival of the American forces. The Filipinos quickly discover that these new occupiers are just as cruel as their predecessors, witnessing American soldiers torture and abuse the local population. Don Jacinto, a sympathetic landowner who helps Istak's family establish a small farming village in Rosales, is deeply involved in the revolutionary underground. Istak eventually joins the cause, especially after an encounter with a revolutionary intellectual known as "The Cripple" (Apolinario Mabini), who seeks refuge at Don Jacinto's estate.
Ultimately, Istak is tasked with a dangerous mission to deliver a vital dispatch to President Emilio Aguinaldo. His journey leads him to Tirad Pass, where he joins the historic, tragic last stand of the revolutionary army. It is there that Istak is shot and killed by American troops.
Istak dies a true martyr, his final moments glowing with patriotic fervor. He dies understanding that love for one’s country—a love that demands total sacrifice—is essential to discovering the true meaning of existence. He brings honor to his people by proving to the foreign invaders that Filipinos are capable of laying down their lives, not just for the survival of their clan, but for the freedom of the nation.
Sadly, this standard of patriotism seems confined to history. We now live in a confusing era where many Filipinos dream of becoming Americans or Europeans, and a tragic number of our politicians are entirely bereft of patriotism in their service to the nation. The words spoken by The Cripple in the novel still ring with absolute brilliance and chilling truth: “There is so much that the past can teach us... Diego Silang more than a hundred years ago, what did he prove? That with a brilliant and selfless leader, we can be united the way he united the north. And united, we can then make Filipinas strong, formidable...”
Of course, today we no longer have foreign colonizers to fight, but we are still surrounded by wars. We are fighting a war against poverty, rampant government corruption, broken leadership, and a never-ending struggle for true national unity. Po-on serves as a stark reminder that our dream of producing selfless leaders who understand the value of sacrifice, alongside a citizenry united for the common good, remains unfulfilled. It is an absolute must-read for every Filipino who wishes to understand the heavy price paid for our freedom, and the glorious, complex history that defines us.
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