Ang Hindi Magmahal sa Sariling Wika ay Isdang Nawala sa Aquarium

Dear insansapinas, 

Last week, I have just read an article where one blogger claimed that English was her first language when she was young. Pinay naman. Ano kayang English yon? Yong o dat's dirty, dirty, you take a bath na or your mom will make palo you?


Another blogger has been writing that she can not understand and talk in Tagalog because she is from the south. But Virginia, she has been living in the Metro for than thirty years. Ibig bang sabihin, she talks with her neighbors in English?


What is this mentality that if you speak and write in English, you're intellectual or intelligent?  Sabi ko nga noon, pumunta sila dito ang magsalita sila sa English, baka sabihin ng Puti pag narinig silang nagsalita, lalo pag accented .  What? 


Gloria Diaz declared to the world when she won the Miss Universe title that she did not speak Tagalog because it is for the atsay only. After relinquishing her crown, she became a movie star and guess what language catapulted her to popularity? Tagalog or Filipino.


But of course, iba ang conversational Filipino just like the conversational English that one should learn to be understood by the majority. You are not expected naman to say AKO AY YAYAO na para sabihing ikaw ay aalis na. Kung hindi multo ka na pagbalik. tseh.


Bakit Filipino ang topic ko? Hindi dahil matatapos na ang Agosto ang buwan ng Wika kung hindi dahil sa article na ito. (italicized, mine)
via professional heckler (hindi na maaccess yong article sa manila bulletin.

Language, learning, identity, privilege 
Ithink
By JAMES SORIANO
August 24, 2011, 4:06am
Manila Bulletin

MANILA, Philippines — English is the language of learning. I’ve known this since before I could go to school. As a toddler, my first study materials were a set of flash cards that my mother used to teach me the English alphabet.
My mother made home conducive to learning English: all my storybooks and coloring books were in English, and so were the cartoons (bakit may Tagalog bang cartoon noon?) I watched and the music I listened to. She required me to speak English at home. She even hired tutors to help me learn to read and write in English.

In school I learned to think in English. We used English to learn about numbers, equations and variables.(Well, because our textbooks were written in English, especially noong kapanahunan niya)  With it we learned about observation and inference, the moon and the stars, monsoons and photosynthesis. With it we learned about shapes and colors, about meter and rhythm. I learned about God in English, and I prayed to Him in English.(paano kaya kung sinagot siya in Hebrew or Latin). 

Filipino, on the other hand, was always the ‘other’ subject — almost a special subject like PE or Home Economics, except that it was graded the same way as Science, Math, Religion, and English. My classmates and I used to complain about Filipino all the time. Filipino was a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.(I should speak to my dishwashing machine in Filipino pala if it malfunctions).

We used to think learning Filipino was important because it was practical: Filipino was the language of the world outside the classroom. It was the language of the streets: it was how you spoke to the tindera when you went to the tindahan, (may katulong sila, bakit siya pumupunta sa tindahan. May tindahan ba sa village nila) what you used to tell your katulong that you had an utos, and how you texted manong when you needed “sundo na.”

These skills were required to survive in the outside world, because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world. If we wanted to communicate to these people — or otherwise avoid being mugged on the jeepney — we needed to learn Filipino.

(You go to Divisoria and you haggle with Chinese who can't speak a single Filipino word).

(You are not mugged in a jeepney if you tell the driver, stop, I am getting off.(Sa Pilipinas, the word is alight).  Ilalampas ka lang ng ilang kanto. Sabihin mo na lang PARA MAMA, I will make baba sa kanto. Pero pwede lang yon kung colehiyala ka who invented Taglish to make them unique from other Tagalog speakers.) 

That being said though I was proud of my proficiency with the language. Filipino was the language I used to speak with my cousins and uncles and grandparents in the province, so I never had much trouble reciting.

It was the reading and writing that was tedious and difficult. I spoke Filipino, but only when I was in a different world like the streets or the province; it did not come naturally to me. English was more natural; I read, wrote and thought in English.( like I got to pee when he feels urinating? ows)  And so, in much of the same way that I learned German later on, I learned Filipino in terms of English. In this way I survived Filipino in high school, albeit with too many sentences that had the preposition ‘ay.’

It was really only in university that I began to grasp Filipino in terms of language and not just dialect. Filipino was not merely a peculiar variety of language, derived and continuously borrowing from the English and Spanish alphabets; it was its own system, with its own grammar, semantics, sounds, even symbols.

But more significantly, it was its own way of reading, writing, and thinking. There are ideas and concepts unique to Filipino that can never be translated into another. Try translating bayanihan, tagay, kilig or diskarte.( cooperative endeavour for bayanihan; shot for tagay, giddy for kilig and huwag kang maarte (ooops ) in diskarte).

Only recently have I begun to grasp Filipino as the language of identity: the language of emotion, experience, and even of learning. And with this comes the realization that I do, in fact, smell worse than a malansang isda. My own language is foreign to me: I speak, think, read and write primarily in English. To borrow the terminology of Fr. Bulatao, I am a split-level Filipino.

But perhaps this is not so bad in a society of rotten beef and stinking fish. For while Filipino may be the language of identity, it is the language of the streets. It might have the capacity to be the language of learning, but it is not the language of the learned.

It is neither the language of the classroom and the laboratory, nor the language of the boardroom, the court room, or the operating room. It is not the language of privilege. I may be disconnected from my being Filipino, but with a tongue of privilege I will always have my connections.

Pinaysaamerika