Under rain and strain, Gomburza gets monumental makeover

It wasn’t supposed to rain across Manila on the afternoon of Oct. 22. Not because PAGASA’s 4 AM forecast had promised only “partly cloudy to cloudy skies with isolated rain showers or thunderstorms” all day. Not because the 11 AM tropical cyclone bulletin had left the capital off the list of areas to be affected by the then-brewing Tropical Depression Salome. The rain was unwelcome because the Gomburza National Monument was set for the first phase of its restorative cleaning.

There was a short program two hours before the monument’s scheduled cleaning at 5 PM, just across from the National Museum of Fine Arts (NMFA), inside its Old Senate Session Hall. The NMFA, which manages the monument together with the National Historical Commission of the Philippines, was hosting the local arm of Kärcher—the German cleaning technology company it had tapped for the project—as well as the German Embassy and a few distinguished guests. One couldn’t afford to take a rain check on that affair.

Neoclassical Manila

A ray of hope appeared as my jeep approached the Manila City Hall. The heavy rain softened to a drizzle. By the time I emerged from the Lagusnilad Underpass, I didn’t need an umbrella on Padre Burgos Avenue. The darkened asphalt glistened beneath the overcast skies, reflecting the fleeting sheens from headlights of motorcycles and PUVs.

Yet amid the gloom—the rust, must, and smoke—the eye-catching neoclassical building stood in its usual glory. Teeming with high schoolers and museum regulars, it warmly welcomed us all.

Before heading to the third floor, I paused for a glimpse of Juan Luna’s “Spoliarium,” visible even from the hallway. Who wouldn’t? I knew visitors stood before the masterpiece; some held up their phones, while others simply stared as if seeing it for the first time.

I, however, turned to the stairway, mindful that another story of preservation awaited. Not on canvas but in stone.

More than a facelift 

The Old Senate Session Hall was dimly and warmly lit. The light was enough to illuminate Carlos “Botong” Francisco’s “Filipino Struggles Through History.” It also highlighted the sculptures and ornamentations by Isabelo Tampinco and his sons, Angel and Vidal.

Guests had yet to arrive, but I spotted preparations: colleagues reviewing press materials, cameramen setting up equipment, NMFA employees in Filipiniana, and some Herren (gentlemen) in tailored suits.

After a quick chat with the organizers, it was game time. Click, click, click, my phone went, as I shot preliminary photos and videos from the back of the hall. And clack, clack, clack, my leather shoes went. It was only a matter of time before the choir members gathered in front for rehearsals.

“Tuwing Umuulan at Kapiling Ka,” “Umagang Kay Ganda”—the song choices were curious to say the least, given their subject matter. The irony wasn’t lost on anyone. And then it was already 3:30 PM. Outside, I was sure the drizzle persisted even if I had no window to peer through.

I took my seat and reviewed my photos and videos, updated my immediate supervisor about the program’s delay and the likely cancellation of the restorative cleaning, skimmed through materials that might prove useful, and waited.

And a little after 4 PM, the half-occupied hall was asked to rise and sing the Philippine national anthem.

Parallel visions

The National Museum of the Philippines (NMP) and Kärcher’s collaboration was more than a publicity stunt. If anything, it reaffirmed their parallel visions.

On its website, the NMP describes itself as a “world-class and socially responsive institution that preserves legacy, fosters a profound sense of Filipino identity, and shapes a progressive and sustainable future.”

Kärcher, meanwhile, has long pursued cultural preservation as part of its corporate ethos, with its previous projects including Fort Santiago, San Sebastian Basilica, San Agustin Church, the People Power Monument, and the Rizal Monument.

Together, their shared commitment drove them to choose the Gomburza National Monument as the next subject of conservation.

The 16-foot bronze monument, known locally as Pambansang Bantayog ng Gomburza, commemorates the three martyred Catholic priests Mariano Gomez, Jose Burgos, and Jacinto Zamora, who were executed via garrote on Feb. 17, 1872, after being implicated in the Cavite Mutiny.

The work was created by Filipino sculptor Solomon Saprid as part of a national competition organized by the Gomburza Centennial Commission.

Five sculptors—Abdulmari Imao, Eduardo Castrillo, Napoleon Abueva, Saprid, and Anastacio Caedo—were invited to join the competition in 1970, with only four entries submitted on time.

Well-composed tripartite composition

Saprid eventually won, and jury member Carlos da Silva described his entry as “the best among the entries submitted,” lauding its “well-composed tripartite triangular composition without being symmetrical or academic, combining in a subtle way symbolic romanticism and realism, dignified appropriateness in keeping with the Christian spirit, and inherent nationalism of the martyred fathers.”

Future National Artist for Visual Arts Arturo Luz also voted for Saprid’s entry, saying, “The study is simple, compact, and monumental. Among the entries submitted, it possesses, I feel, the greatest sculptural potential, that is to say—visual impact. The sculpture conveys its message forcefully, without unnecessary props or details, relying entirely on the expressiveness of the principal element, namely, the three martyrs.”

Carlos Da Silva and Arturo Luz, members of the Gomburza Monument Committee, show their support for Solomon Saprid in the 1970 competition. Photographs by the National Historical Commission of the Philippines website.

Saprid’s Gomburza was first installed on Plaza Roma, in front of the Manila Cathedral, on Jan. 17, 1972, before being transferred to its present location across from the NMFA on July 7, 1980.

On Feb. 17, 2021, the NHCP declared Saprid’s Gomburza among the country’s official national monuments, the seventh to receive such recognition. The following year, the commission installed a historical marker ahead of the 150th anniversary of the priests’ martyrdom.

Metaphorical cleaning and cycle

“Ipinahayag bilang Pambansang Bantayog ng Pambansang Komisyong Pangkasaysayan ng Pilipinas, 21 Enero 2021,” the marker reads. “Ang panandang ito ay inilagay bilang paggunita sa ika-150 anibersaryo ng pagbitay kina Padre Mariano Gomez, Padre Jose Burgos, at Padre Jacinto Zamora.”

In a way, the monument’s cleaning completes another kind of cycle. Just as Saprid’s work immortalizes the priests’ struggle for dignity and truth, the NMP and Kärcher’s joint effort forms part of another history of stewardship.

And its timing couldn’t be more poetic. October, aside from being the nationwide celebration of Museum and Galleries Month, marks a symbolic “10–10–10” milestone for Kärcher: Gomburza being its 10th conservation project, undertaken in the 10th month of its 10th year in the Philippines. By extension, it also contributes to the global company’s 90th-anniversary challenge to complete 90 cleaning projects around the world within 2025.

Renewal by water

Kärcher’s planned conservation cleaning was a careful act of renewal. Instead of harsh chemicals or abrasive scrubbing, it prepared a specialized steam-cleaning technique that’s gentle enough to protect the sculpture’s half-century-old surface, yet powerful enough to lift away the soot, dust, and pollutants that had accumulated over time.

Beneath the rinsing mist, the bronze’s natural patina, the green film formed as bronze reacts with oxygen, was expected to emerge fully preserved, acting as a protective layer against corrosion.

The same care would extend to the brick and granite plaza surrounding the monument, slated for a deep yet delicate wash to clear organic and surface deposits without abrasion, restoring texture and tone.

In less than a week, the process wouldn’t erase the ravages of time but would quietly reveal how well the monument had endured them.

Preserving values

There was also a video presentation, a ceremonial turnover of the cleaning equipment, a photo op, individual media interviews, and, of course, a buffet.

At the VIP table, I sat with Kärcher Philippines General Manager Darwin Banez for a quick chat. He said choosing to give the Gomburza National Monument a makeover was “very timely, considering the Gomburza stand for justice and freedom.”

“These are the values we have to preserve, not just before but even now,” he said.

Banez was hoping for the cleaned monument to attract more visitors, especially the younger generation. More importantly, he wished it would impart the concept of a spick-and-span life to everyone.

“It makes life easier for us,” he added.

Across the room, NMP Deputy Director General Ma. Rosenne Flores-Avila was granting interviews to my colleagues. When I approached her, she told me that the restorative cleaning was only a natural follow-up to the national monument declaration four years ago.

“It’s important for the Gomburza National Monument to be maintained not only for it to look good but for people to visit it and learn about it,” she said. “It is natural that we like to see beautiful things. If a certain historical site or monument isn’t maintained, it gives a negative impression that we don’t take care of our national treasures.”

Banez and Avila each said more historical sites are slated for restorative cleaning in the coming months.

“It’s very promising,” Avila added.

Dusk treat

Past 5 PM, the event had settled into an easy rhythm, with conversations softening and guests lining up to get their food. As I joined the queue, one of the organizers approached me and said, almost casually, that the cleaning would proceed as planned.

There’s nothing wrong with being mistaken sometimes, be it PAGASA, the organizers, or even myself. I left the line to get my bag.

Click, click, click, click, click, my phone went again, as a Kärcher employee did God’s work. The drizzle had stopped entirely. The ground still glistened, and traffic began to thicken as rush hour kicked in. The air felt lighter. The sky had turned into a soft gray-blue that hinted at clearing.

After about 30 minutes, I returned to the buffet, though the chafing dishes were nearly empty. I made do with what was left and helped myself after a long day’s work.

By the time I finished my meal, the museum was winding down. It was almost 6 PM at that point.

I took the stairs and, already by my lonesome, passed once more through the already dim, silent corridors. For some reason, I felt like a child trying to find my way out after a school trip. In other words, I got lost.

I managed to stumble upon a security guard doing his rounds, and he accompanied me to the lobby.

I intended to catch one last glimpse of “Spoliarium” before leaving the museum, but the main gallery had already been shut. I had to make do with my memory, if not imagination, before leaving the building.

Much needed renewal

Darkness had fallen. Padre Burgos Avenue was bathed in the pale afterglow of a city with the remnants of rainfall. I walked toward the sakayan and competed with students and office workers for a ride.

A Kärcher worker cleans the brick and granite plaza surrounding the Gomburza National Monument.

I managed to catch a bus after a few minutes or so, standing at first among other weary commuters. Eventually, I got myself a seat as the bus moved along Quiapo.

While resting my aching back and hugging my bag on my way home, I couldn’t help but remember the choir from earlier: “Basta tayo’y magkasama / Laging mayro’ng umagang kay ganda / Pagsikat ng araw / May dalang liwanag / Sa ating pangarap / Haharapin natin / Haharapin natin / Ang sikat ng araw.”

The city lights shimmered as my bus trip inched forward through traffic. Slowly, I moved away from the Gomburza National Monument, surely poised to emerge renewed and timeless in the days ahead.

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