This colorful ceremony reminds me of a notable passage in the Bible: "The
memory of a just man is forever," it says.
There are men who live the way they wish and, as the Bible says again, "go
the way of all flesh." There are others who live by the rule of God and man
and end up as those whom I dare to call saints. I have come to meet the
memory of such a just man, Ramon Magsaysay, the late president of the
Philippines.
There is a strange law working with these great men; the world does not
leave them alone and they do not leave the world alone. Even after death,
the world raises them to life, puts up memorials and monuments to them,
writes about them, speaks of them. They become more alive than when alive.
In turn they do not leave the world alone. They are alive to the problems of
the times and keep on inspiring the world, each in his own way.
Here is Ramon Magsaysay searching for those whom he likes, discovering them,
encouraging them, rewarding them. He is telling them to add more goodness to
the world, imparting his nature to them. His hands have been long enough to
stretch across the world and touch whom he may, including me, out and away
in Sri Lanka. He has been pleased, through the Board of Trustees of the
Foundation established in his memory to award to me the prize for
Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication Arts for 1983. I am deeply
grateful for this honor. I shall remember him in my prayers.
If, before I end, I may say something about myself, I wish to state that I
did not work for remuneration or reward. There was an urge to work within me
and I followed it. I wished to bring together my people who were sitting
with a fence between them. I found a new way to do this; I wrote poetry—our
people like poetry—and sang it. Song can break through fences, drop down
from roofs, enter through keyholes. God blessed me. We are nearly together
now.
Ramon Magsaysay, too, says let us be together. May his name be blessed
forever. God bless you all.
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