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May 27, 2010 By Arnold De Villa
For those acquainted with Biblical literature, Judas was that guy who sold Christ for silver while pretending to care for the poor. When Mary Magdalene wiped Christ’s foot with an expensive and perfumed ointment, he was the only apostle who whined that the money spent to buy that ointment could have been used to help the poor instead. John the Evangelist referred to him as Judas, the son of “Simon Iscariot”. His first name has been the origin of names like Jude or Judy, a Hebrew word meaning “God is praised”. His last name, “Iscariot”, does not necessarily imply a last name. Rather, it could have been a reference to a place of origin, a small Judean town called Kerioth. There are theories suggesting that his last name was neither of the two; that it was actually the name of a group of assassins whose obsession was to drive the Roman colonizers away from Judea.
Holy Week has gone with the cold winds of early spring. Summer is turning our lawns green. Where am I going with this biblical introduction? Please be patient. My point is at the end. To begin with, I am responding to a very nice and pleasant e-mail I received, an inspiring and positive feedback to “Foreign Nationals Who Break the Law”, the article I wrote last week. In this response, a reader commented about the deplorable reality that some Filipinos would report other undocumented Filipinos (TNT’s in our local vernacular) for the sole sake of receiving the monetary bounty behind their heads. During the Japanese era, I heard that they were labeled as “Makapili”. Since I was not even a baby during that time, I can only rely on the old movies I saw. They were those types with brown paper bags covering their faces, pointing to Filipino guerilla rebels who were arrested or executed by Japanese soldiers during World War II. They did remind me of Judas, the paradigm of betrayal, the same types who stealthily deliver over staying Filipinos or other undocumented foreign nationals to authorities for cash. They are furtive, concealed and green with envy. Apart from them, there are also lesser degrees of other types of “Judas” amongst our midst; toxic souls who hate almost anyone who has a better life, a better brain or a better heart. They are those who furtively desire the failure of others, those whose tongues are longer than a wild fire, and those who believe that they can only succeed when their friends and neighbors fail. Up front, they seem friendly. The moment they are left to their own space, they are actually deadly.
I find it hard to believe, but I heard it so many times. Is there truth to the allegation that the Filipino nation is fragmented because a national genetic imperfection we fondly label as “inggit” (envy) has been asserted and inserted into our genes? Is it true that deep within, the Filipino is deluged by the deadly venom of jealousy that makes it is so hard for us to accept the basic truth that there will always be people who are better? Is this the reason as to why it is easier for us to copy even those which are not suitable instead of gently venturing on new things appropriate to who we are? Does this partially explain why career orientation back home is disproportionately geared towards courses that only stress on potential revenue instead of the optimization of individual talents and skills? Is this partly the explanation as to why some Filipinos in Chicago concentrate on distant Suburbs with affordable but huge Mc Mansions where they can display their wares and declare to the world how much they have?
In my regular breakfast meetings with a very close friend, a historically ubiquitous figure for his relentless civic passion, we chat about many of these things. Most of the time, and I agree, the bottom line rationale to all these is the age old sense of misplaced if not displaced colonial mentality. The foreign nationals who bilked our lands of so many resources have always resorted to the military strategy of “divide and conquer”. We divided, they conquered. So although we remark with humor and treat things as a joke, every time we hear or spread comments like Ilocanos are “kuripot”, Tagalogs are “mayabang”, the Warays are “mataray”, or the “Bisaya” is a maid, we actually experience our own microscopic form of (sub) racial discrimination, brought about by “divide and conquer”. We fight among ourselves, pull each other down and then find refuge amongst our own regionalistic “kababayan”. Expand that attitude and apply it overseas, we give birth to a Filipino Judas Iscariot instead. Fortunately, those I know with that profile have not yet hanged themselves dead on a tree. I pray they don’t. There is always hope for change.
Another reason that my friend uses to shed light on this nasty cultural trait is that of his theory about the Filipino’s sense of a low “cultural self-esteem”. It is as if we do not appreciate the Filipino-ness of a Filipino to the extent that we will put down the Filipino, use the American twang in our own broken tongue, and behave as if being Asians is above and beyond the unique contours of our own racial outlook. To that I respond that if there really is a low cultural selfesteem amongst us, it could be explained from the lack of appreciation of who we are, an apparent ignorance of what a Filipino is, and a corresponding lack of national pride. Consequently, the ignorance of who we are is attributed to an even deeper ignorance of how we should be, where we came from and why we are; one branch deviating into another, pulling us down the moment we are caught off guard.When I pledged my loyalty to the constitution of America on that day I became a U.S. citizen, I shed tears. My eyes moistened not because I finally attained the ultimate dream of so many immigrants blessed with the generosity of a land bestowed with equal opportunity. I cried because I wrongly thought that it meant giving up my birth history, that I could no longer call myself a Filipino, and that I needed to shed off the values I inherited from my parents and my grandparents. I was utterly mistaken. I am still a Filipino with is a US citizenship. I am proud of where I came from and I am happy for where I am. Since I was not born here, I am not a Filipino-American. Unlike those who think they are because of the length of their stay, I will never be or aspire to be a Filipino-American. Despite the fact that I have lived, loved and wept in so many foreign grounds, my heart remains a Filipino and forever it will be.
Despite the fact that my tongue has been layered with so many languages, Filipino shall always be the language of my soul. This is how I raise my cultural self-esteem. This is how others could probably do the same. And I guess it could partially solve the needed conversion of the so many hidden closet “Judases” we have in our community.
I truly appreciate responses and comments from readers. They keep writers like me alive and active. They are the essence and purpose of our local newspapers, most of which are not really financially lucrative; meaning that they function more as a community service than as a profitable business. Thank you very, very much! Whether your comments are good, inspiring, not so good or totally undesirable, I will do everything I can to respond either directly, through e-mail or through an article like this. At any rate, I promise to respond. So please keep on writing.