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July 9, 2010
“Anak, paki kuha mo nga noong ano sa likod noong kuwan”, is a typical request I used to hear from my dad when I was a kid. He wanted me to get something from somewhere while he was busy fixing things. “Daddy, ano po iyon?” I would ask. “Hindi mo ba nakikita itong ginagawa ko? Kailangan ko iyong gamit para dito”. He still does not tell me exactly what he wanted, yet I could surmise that he needed a screw driver based on what he was doing. He looked at me frustrated with my apparent inability to read his mind while I looked back at him bemused, waiting for more details. After some seconds of silence lapsed, he pointed his lips pouting towards a certain direction. Then he said, “there it is, right behind you”. We finally understood each other. “Alam mo”, my grandmother started telling a story. “Itong ganito.. ito… talagang…iyong alin…oo…alam mo na”. “No Lola”, I responded. “Hindi ko po alam” and then I slowly left.
Years before that, with another grandmother, using a Filipino word was a taboo. Watching shows in Tagalog was not allowed. And playing in the street with children who cannot speak English did not happen. Since school was the same, I always thought that knowing English is normal and erroneously believed that those who cannot speak it were not from the city. At a very early age, we felt and falsely believed that Tagalog or any other dialect is not the norm; that they were only for those who were born out of the urban metropolis, the language of farmers in the provinces.
Going to a more current era, in a recent study of English language proficiency among newly arrived immigrants in Chicago, I was surprised to find out that young kids from the Philippines were second to the last as the least proficient, the last being children from Laos and Vietnam.
Yet, my son who was born here, together with his friends are somewhat overly interested to know more about Tagalog, Ilonggo or Ilocano, some of the most common languages they hear beside their Anglo-Saxon upbringing. Mentioning the exact number of Philippine languages and dialects is almost as unpredictable as counting the total number of islands we have. It is a proof of our diversity, our intrinsic plurality and our own racial variances. Controversies behind them are normally from quasi imposed sociological factors politicized through anomalous historical events. Hence, the hidden strife, the false divisive pride, the segregated indifference of natural linguistic groupings content with the mediocrity of not knowing, not caring and not understanding about the beauty and history of other Filipino languages.
I believe that language was never a function of nationalism nor is it an essential element of patriotism. For this reason, it is somewhat unjust and unfair to declare and insist that Tagalog is the national language of the Philippines. If we consent to this ancient declaration, we indirectly succumb to the wrong belief that Hiligaynon, Bisaya or Kinaray-a, to name a few, are not Philippine national languages when in fact they are. They are some of the languages used by the Filipino people, a nation who can speak. Therefore, they too are national languages. Why not dialects? That is where the controversy starts, an issue that deems scholastic investigation and deeper consideration.
I remember the way my dad and my grandmother communicated with us before. Despite using words which were not words, and mixing their own regional expressions with those which were native to Manila, we understood each other. Albeit hidden frustrations emerged, we maintained the bond that somewhat obliged us to understand beyond the words they uttered. There were four different languages in my household absorbed by kids who heard various interpretations and were subjected to different attitudes and values.
It was a typical microcosm of the Filipino nation. So as time passed, as I had the chance to delve on other foreign languages: write, speak and live with them for years, the malady of false superiority has finally been healed. The more I learned about other tongues, the more I sought to love our own. The more I spoke and wrote in other verbal codes, the more I fought for what I grew up with. It is an irony that distance foments closeness as it is a paradox to think that familiarity breeds contempt. Languages, dialects and cultural mannerisms all reflect the nuances of our culture. They do not determine our love for our country, our love of our people, our national sentiments. They were designed solely for the function to communicate, to understand, to appreciate and to accept. English proficiency can be improved if we first learn and appreciate our own. There should be an anchor, a basis, a starting point for the mind to work on and with before it
ventures out to embark on what is foreign. When we do not start from our own indigenous base, confusion sets in. With confusion, fake values and pseudo sentiments barrage our cultural esteem with all the wrong conditions and descriptions that cause havoc in the way we grow as a people. Now that the new Philippine President has probably settled with his new environment, I pray that his new government pay more attention to the educational needs of our people. The novelty is transitory and the old routine will soon set in.
There is no need to discuss or elaborate on the dismal conditions and status of our educational system back home. It is popularly discussed through anecdotal debacles. The real sole underneath the shoe of a people who will still trod a million miles towards growth is within the ability to express themselves with the intent to understand that which is common and convergent despite the accidental trappings of that which is uncommon and divergent.
If this thought could be woven within the efforts to improve our educational system, it would not assuage overnight, but it could be a good beacon for real growth.