A guide to Fort Santiago 

Fuerte de Santiago, Kutá ng Santiago or more commonly known as Fort Santiago is a citadel built in 1571 by Spanish navigator Miguel Lopez de Legaspi located in the Walled City of Intramuros and is one of the most important historical sites in Manila. Our history shows us that this defense fortress was constructed over Raja Soliman’s original wooden barricade in the last years of the 16th century and was initially given the name Castillo de Santiago after the patron saint of Spanish conquistadors, St. James. In the battle against the moors, San Tiago (Santiago) was whom Spanish warriors often invoked.

Fort Santiago occupied a little over 2,000 square feet of space and strategically, it stood at the tip of a piece of land bounded by Manila Bay on one side and the Pasig River on the other. Eventually, the Walled City evolved into one big fort yet still, La Fuerza de Santiago continued to serve as military quarters and an arsenal.

When we speak of the dungeons, which has been given much character and obtained countless visits to the area, one can note, if one has studied a little bit of history, the stories of ghosts of countless prisoners, giving the walls an eerie mystique. No less than our National Hero Jose Rizal was incarcerated at the fort, as were my own grandfathers as well as former president Ferdinand Marcos.

During the Japanese occupation, the kempeitai took over the area after abandoning their headquarters at the Jai Alai building. My Tio Abuelo Liling Roces, as narrated by his brother Anding (another Tio Abuelo) in his book “Looking for Liling,” was in cell 6. The dungeons were said to be dim, pungent and infested with armies of insects and whatever the size of the kempeitai-fashioned wooden cages, each was always horribly overcrowded, the prisoners having to lie down like a pack of sardines.

The book continues to narrate how, according to Fort Santiago standards, inmate capacity should have been only 24 people but, as described by my family, cells were filled up to 40. A water tap was located at the rear of the cell and to avail of it, a prisoner must first ask permission from the guard outside the cell. It seemed that prisoners were not allowed to talk in their cells and were made to sit on the floor. Any talking made by an inmate would have to be immediately admitted or else everybody in the cell would be given a hard beating.

The newest prisoner was always given the most uncomfortable spot, which was located at the farthest corner. The choice spot would be nearest to the wooden bars where somehow, one is somewhat able to breathe. At 7 in the morning my Tio Abuelo Tuting said that a roll call was made in Japanese and one learned to count in the language quickly for fear of getting slapped by the sentry. I suppose in all these accounts, one of the worst feelings anyone in this situation could ever have was to forcefully look away from a familiar face to avoid incriminating yourself or that person.

On another note, I remember vividly my visits to the fort as a young girl, when my own abuelita would shed instant tears as she recalled her experience with Tomas Morató. While my Lolo Tomas survived his tortures at the fort, my Tio Abuelo Liling on the other hand was beheaded by Japanese militia in 1944. Cell 6 in Fort Santiago was the last time my Tio Abuelo Liling received absolution from a priest. One can only think about the other inmates and the stories they have to tell.

In the end, while Fort Santiago is noteworthy for being the headquarters of the armies of several foreign powers in Philippine history, one would have to be a brave traveler to visit (especially after dark) one of the oldest fortifications in Manila while bearing in mind, as former president Carlos Garcia once said, that the fort will forever stand as a reminder to our people that our independence has not been fed to us on a silver spoon nor from a silver platter, as this historic fort performed the dual role of defense bastion and torture chamber.

I haven’t begun about the women in such difficult times but then, that’s another story.