Rizal Park, Philippines, 2013.

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Jose P. Rizal may sound like a South American rapper, but the Filipino Doctor-Poet has a park dedicated to him in the centre of the Philippines' capital, Manila, and has a garden to commemorate his execution.

I knew very little (read: nothing) of the history of the Philippines. A collection of islands that were united and subjugated by the Spanish in 1565, and named after their reigning monarch, Phillip II. Jose P Rizal comes in at the end of the Colonial Philippines. He was born in Calamba, Laguna (some thirty miles south of Manila), to a wealthy family. His ancestors were a mix of Filipino, Spanish, Chinese and Japanese, the most notable of whom were Chinese merchants and entrepreneurs.

At an early age, Rizal and his brother were already annoying the aurthorities with their political ideas and views on individual rights. He was asked to leave one of his schools after three months because the friars didn't like him asking radical questions. He eventually studied in Spain, won poetry contests, and was going to study law, but ended up going to medical school to specialise in ophthalmology (yeah, I didn't know either, turns out it's something to do with eye diseases). He became a doctor in Hong Kong (Midlevels), ran a surgery and started writing. He travelled round Europe for a bit and then headed back to the Philippines, where he became a member of a reform movement.

Now to the more relevant part; Rizal wrote many articles, essays, poems, stories, etc, that shared his political feelings on rights and freedoms (specifically for the Filipino people). His works had five core points to them. Firstly, the Philippines should be a province of Spain (not, as it was then, a sub-colony of Mexico, from where it was ruled). Secondly, they should be represented in the Cortes (Parliament -I'm reminded of a certain Tea Party at this point). Thirdly, that Filipino priests should be in charge of parishes. Fourthly, the freedom of assembly and speech. And lastly, equal rights in law.

The colonial authorities were not impressed, and after being implicated in the rebellion of 1892, he was exiled. But, it was another rebellion four years later, that was the end for Rizal. He tried to leave and take no part in the uprising, secured a job in Cuba, and got as far as Barcelona where he was arrested and sent back to Manila the same day. He disavowed the revolution in a manifesto, but was still court-martialled on the charges of rebellion, sedition and conspiracy, convicted, and sentenced to death.

A small garden off the main park has a ticket booth selling 20 pesos tickets to go into the Rizal Memorial. An enthusiastic guide ushers me in, and at 30 pence, it's hard to say no, if only to get away from the crowds.

There is a cobblestone entrance over a bridge and Rizal's last poem inscribed on the wall in Spanish (Mi Ultimo Adios), English (My Last Fairwell), and one of the Filipino languages, presumably Tagalog (the most common one). He left the poem in a stove, which was given to his sister after his execution (something was also left in his shoes, but he buried without a coffin, and whatever was there had been lost).

Around the corner you are hit full on with the main monument, and although I'm not one to be taken aback or be easily shocked or surprised, I can honestly say that there was something very powerful about the statues. Straight in front of you is Rizal, he has just been shot and is falling to the ground. Stood in a line a little further away is the line of the Filipino firing squad. Behind them is a line of Spanish soldiers, ready to shoot the Filipinos if they refuse to shoot Rizal. A priest stands a little to the side. As soon as you turn the corner, those giant statues, are pointing their guns and firing at you.

Around the central scene are a montage of statues showing glimpses of his life. A solemn and powerful monument to the man considered to a national hero and martyr.

At least, I found it solemn and powerful. There were tourists there who seemed to disagree. A group of teenagers taking selfies and group photos, holding up the obligatory Asian peace sign, striking the dying pose, pretending to be holding Rizal up as though he were on a night out, holding his hand, blowing kisses. You name the pose, they were striking it. Meandering between the statues was a Japanese man taking photos of each statue's face.

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