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BY JULIA CARREON-LAGOC
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A WORLDWIDE term for me and for you fellow Pinoy — whether I brushed against you in Iceland, in hot Bahamas or even in Timbuktu — the magic word is Kabayan. It is as Filipino whether you’re home-grown in Aparri or Jolo.
Meandering from the West Coast to the East Coast of the U.S. of A., I and my dear departed Rudy (before he signed up for Shakespeare’s “undiscovered country”), we’d gone through myriad encounters with the likes of Mang Juan and Aling Juana. To easily get acquainted, Kabayan is the operative word we used. It sounds so wholesome and fraternal. Broadcast icon Noli de Castro understands the depth of Kabayan as he uses it to address his countrymen in the far-flung areas of the world.
Hereunder are instances I’ve culled from previous columns — when Kabayan opened a friendly chat, and ah, giving the feel of native terra firma. One day, it was a shoulder-to-shoulder encounter with a fellow Pinay at Sacramento, California’s historic capital. Specific place was the CR at the Macy’s Department Store. CR? Let’s just say that CR is the Pinoy’s preferred alias for the estetsayd Restroom.
In my hurry to get to the door, my shoulder brushed against a lady who, instead of being miffed, gave me a lovely smile. Most unexpected, from a beautiful face too, like a ray of sunshine breaking through thick clouds.
“Kabayan?” I asked.
“Opo. From Pangasinan,” she replied.
“Ako, Iloilo,” my voice trailed while hurrying to make use of the facilities.
In retrospect, I knew hers was a smile of recognition — from one Filipina to another Filipina. It’s not the perfunctory kind that could come from just another human being, nor from another Asian who is not from the Land of the Morning. The Pangasinense’s smile was so sweet, and as I remember it now, fragments of a song float in my mind: Ang dalagang Pilipina, parang tala sa umaga / Kung tanawin ay nakaliligaya / May ningning na tangi at dakilang ganda… (The Filipina maiden is like a morning star. Looking at her brings joy. She has an innate luster and great beauty.) But I digress.
Kabayan was the term I used to get a reaction from the lady looking over women’s wear at Sam’s Club in Savannah, Georgia. It seemed we were both attracted by the same style. I was thinking that she must either be a Thai or an Indonesian so that I uttered “Kabayan” as if I was talking to the clothes on display.
“Hoy, kamusta? (How are you?),” she responded.
Abaw, Cebuana gali. (Gee, she was a Cebuana, i.e., she hailed from the province of Cebu.)
Soon we were joined by her husband and little boy. We exchanged emails, and that’s how the word Kabayan started a friendship with Jean (not her real name).
At the Union Square of San Francisco, I saw a short, frisky old woman (probably 70 or thereabouts) scavenging for cans and bottles in the recycle bins around the square. I walked fast to catch up with the woman who proceeded to the bin at the next corner.
My husband Rudy asked why I was trying to reach the lady. I said I just wanted to know if the term, Kabayan, will work with her. Besides, I’ll be writing an article about it, I added.
She didn’t have the features of a white or a native American, only that of an ethnic Asian. Moreover, the picture of the old lady trying to outdo the regular pickup truck for recyclables was somewhat unsightly in this greatly fabled American continent. An anachronism in a storybook setting, the hubby commented. But I digress again.
“Kabayan!” I called out. No reply. The lady must be hearing impaired.
“Are you from the Philippines, Indonesia, Thailand, Viet Nam, Cambodia, et cetera?” I articulated every single syllable.
“Oyengen, oyengen,” she said.
Gush, I couldn’t make out her mumbling. Enough for me that she’s not a Filipina. My magic word didn’t work; nevertheless, it proved that the old lady was not of Rizal’s motherland.
Sometimes Kabayan may not be appropriate to call the attention of the next person. When we were staying at our unit in Florvel Subdivision in my hometown Oton, I saw this fellow the height and looks of a retired basketball player. He was into early morning physical fitness, making the rounds of the small park in rapid strides. That time I was trying to tie the long strands of the sugar cane to our fence so as not to obstruct those walking close to the roadside.
Short that I am, my effort was to no avail. I waited for the perceived “basketball player” to come near, thinking of requesting him to do the tying.
Through intermarriage, a sprinkling of foreigners — a few Americans as well as other Asians — have made Florvel their abode. Thus, I didn’t use the word “Kabayan” to this be-moustached fellow who could pass for an Arab or an Indonesian. I used the international language (gee, what else but English): “Please tie these stalks for me. They bother you and the passers-by.”
“Are you a foreigner?” he asked while getting the string from me.
I replied that I’m not and that I’m a certified Otonian, after which he immediately blurted, “Taga-La Paz ako.”
OMG! The man was from La Paz, a district in Iloilo City. Another city dweller who chose to reside in a more laid-back environment.
In the U.S. of A. where about 600,000 legal permanent residents from the Philippines are scattered all over the 50 states, one is likely to meet an individual you think could be Filipino. Kabayan, the English equivalent of which is countryman, countrywoman, or compatriot, is the generic term to use to get instant response from the other fellow.
Kapatid, Kuya, Ate, Tito, Tita, Lolo, Lola or just plain “Kabayan” may have come from Iloilo, Bacolod, Cebu, Pangasinan, or any of the 7,107 islands of Perlas ng Silanganan. (juliaclagoc@yahoo.com/PN)
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