OUR COUNTRY is unique in the Asian family of nations. While the slit-eyes speak Nippongo or Mandarin; the Thais and the Vietcong have their own mother tongue…the Filipinos, strangely, speak with ease and facility in English and are oriented in American ways and more American than the Kano.
Historically though, we have been under the Spaniards for two centuries; under the Americans for 10 years; the Japanese, about four years during the war. So, by length of language exposure, we should be speaking Habla Espanol….but no…we speakin’ in Inglis.
The years of living with the whites have loosened our tongue making the Filipino the most articulate English-speaking race in the region.
If you see an American talking to an Asian…you will know that he is talking to a Filipino when he stays longer because they understand each other.
During the times of Jose Rizal, children held great reverence and respect for their parents and elders…so, too, for their teachers; priests and policemen…whom they hold in high regard, as in loco parentis, in lieu or place of parents. Such was the moral compass in those climes. Teachers, priests and policemen…clutch the souls of the Filipino in the warmth of their hands.
In a recent international convention of police forces, several police men gathered at the punch bowl, imbibing inebriation, and boasted about their quick response to crime.
The Japanese cop said: “In our country, once a crime is committed, the police are there within one hour.”
The American said: “That’s nothing. In the US, we are at the scene of the crime in 30 minutes.”
The Filipino SPO2 said: “In the Philippines, the pulis are present during the commission of the crime!”
What? You must be kidding. How so? The FilipIno answered: “Because we are the ones committing it.”
An astounding feature of the Filipino is his ease and fluency in speaking English and any other language or dialect, for that matter. We have no slurs or difficulty in navigating the guttural slangs of foreign languages.
In an international Asian Linguist convention, there was a contest to sing a chosen Asian song…which turned out to be a Tagalog song, which goes like this: “Ako’y Paru-paro…Bulaklak naman kayo.”
The Chinese chanted: “Ako’y Palu-palo…Bulaklak naman kayo.”
The Japanese crooned: “Ako’y Paru-paro…Burakrak naman kayo.”
The Filipino, who, came from Kalibo, sang: “Ako’y Payo-payo…Buyakyak naman kayo.”
And so it came to pass that an American Genealogist/Archaeologist was on a mission to record a pure Filipino song sung by the natives in their mother tongue. He crossed the vast expanse of the deep and boundless seas, and trekked the hinterlands of the Mountain Province, hiked and cut his way thru deep forested grooves till he came to a clearing where there stood a desolate hut. and heard the strange melody of an Igorot singing….in a Karaoke. He approached, waved to the singer who was eating the microphone and recorded the Igorot singing “Purple Rain” and the Bee Gees’ “Immortality”.
Silently cursing, the American bade goodbye and left the place to the parting strains of “American Pie”.
At another time, perhaps, we can continue…on the state of the poor…I mean, proud Pilipino cultural education./PN
