witandwisdom

I used to never watch Filipino soaps, telenovelas and teleseryes which was why I often got into tiffs with some of my co-workers before. They probably misinterpreted my lack of interest in Filipino crying ladies as a sign of a lack of patriotism. Make no mistake I will bash heads with anyone who questions my love for my country. I simply did not like Philippine melodrama because I did not wish to deplete my nasal and eye fluids over the travails of fictional characters. This is especially since my own life and the sad state of our country are enough to be depressed over. I also did not watch soaps because they challenged my mental faculties too much by forcing me to justify either horrendously convoluted or overly simplistic unbelievable plots.

Since I got married though, I have had little choice but to get glimpses of some of these shows. I live in a place where English television has been relegated to oblivion and where I must suffer the perpetual absence of CSI and Smallville. I must admit though that there are some fairly good telenovelas just as there are really bad ones on the primetime fare.

A couple of days ago, I was reminded of one of the presently popular drama shows on TV. An online friend, Myles Narvaez, sent me a picture of Mount Mayon, an active volcano in the province of Albay that is renowned for its nearly perfect cone. The picture should have dug up fond memories of family trips to the place. Unfortunately though, more recent memories of a promotional soap trailer came to mind.

If I remember the trailer correctly, the story begins with the protagonist’s family on a happy trip to Albay when all of a sudden the volcano erupts, the ground cracks open and cruelly swallows one parent whole. Okay, so the volcano was practically smoldering and tourists were standing at its feet taking souvenir pictures. I did not even need to watch the pilot episode to know that the writers of the show probably did not even try to explain that inexplicably improbable part. They were probably thinking that if Pierce Brosnan could get away with Dante’s Peak’s plot then so could they.

Sigh, just when I was getting the hang of Philippine melodrama.

I always see signs on shops around town that say, “Sorry We’re Close.” Sigh. What is that? Sorry we’re close to what— close to me, close to you, close to death? If I had a permanent marker with me every time I went to town and there were no police in sight, I wouldn’t hesitate to put a “d” at the end of each of these grammatically offensive signs. Yes, my dear shop owners, the sign should read, “Sorry We’re Closed,” and “Keep the Door Closed.”

The above phrases are not the only examples of a different kind of English that a lot of Filipinos are very fond of using. I don’t claim to be an expert and neither do I wish to criticize. I do think though that it is about time that we stop abusing some poor helpless, defenseless words.

1.) I can’t report for work today. I’m suffering from overfatigue.

Yup, we have heard a lot of people say that their momentary lapse in energy, common sense and moral judgment is the result of overfatigue. One of my favorite writers, Conrad De Quiros once wrote about this word in his newspaper column. According to De Quiros, “overfatigue” is a Filipinism (something coined by Filipinos). Well, I’m sorry to say that the word will not soon find its way into the dictionary because there is no such word. In fact, try typing it on a word document and it will definitely color red.

The worst kind of tiredness that you can ever feel is called fatigue and anything that is “over” that would probably be death. Next time you’re too lazy to report for work, tell your boss you suffered from fatigue only. More than that and he might have to prepare a funeral wreath.

2.) Come see our collection of jewelries.

One big mall in our city has a sign that says, “Jewelries For Sale.” Since the sign is made of foam, I promise to one day steal the last three letters. You cannot make “jewelry” plural by adding “ies” to it. The plural form of the word is the same as the singular.

3.) Let me offer you some advices about your furnitures and equipments.

Three words are incorrectly used in the sentence. You cannot give a lot of advice on lots of furniture and equipment by putting an “s” at the end of each word. You can use the phrase “pieces of” before each of the three words to make the words plural.

4.) Do you have a cellphone?

Okay, so even Americans use this word but the proper term for the device is “mobile phone.” My engineer husband says the term “cell” actually refers to the cell site.

5.) Let’s eat barbecue.

In the Philippines “barbecue” means meat on a stick. Correct me if I’m wrong but I think Americans use the term to mean a gathering at some open space where they cook meat on a grill.

By the way, some linguistic experts claim that there is now a growing acceptance for Filipinisms or words used in the Philippine context and that they should not automatically be regarded as incorrect. The English language is not solely owned by any one country and any country or nation using it may perhaps reasonably contribute to it.

The problem though is determining when something is an acceptable Filipinism and when it is simply wrong. Perhaps “overfatigue” and the use of “barbecue” in the Philippine context may soon become internationally acceptable but I doubt if “jewelries” and “furnitures” will ever be seen as correct.

A friend’s request has brought to my attention that it has been awhile since I had written anything about the world of entertainment. I was probably too preoccupied with my righteous indignation over the ZTE deal and the reopened Garci scandal to even notice that there was anything entertaining at all.

It is therefore a little saddening that my first entertainment article in ages is about the death of the King of the High C’s, the great tenor, Luciano Pavarotti. He finally succumbed to pancreatic cancer last week and was buried last Saturday in Modeno, Italy after thousands of mourners, entertainers and international leaders came by to bid him farewell.

What the heck, I won’t even pretend to be civilized enough to like opera but I remember my reaction distinctly when I learned about Pavarotti’s death. I couldn’t believe it. At the back of my mind I had always envisioned that he would be alive forever, or at least long enough to entertain the world’s first alien tourists or something. His name has been linked to this era and it seems unimaginable that he is no longer in it.

His unmatched talent, genial nature and willingness to explore the unthinkable (a marriage between pop and classical opera) brought his art to the common people. In our third world country where the closest we could get to opera was Regine Velasquez’s histrionics, Pavarotti’s art was an opportunity to see the world in a different light.

Pavarotti is survived by his children, second wife and (sniff) his four year old daughter.

I hope you are now singing alongside God’s angels.

Mythical accounts of anything or anyone popular have always been in existence to give more dramatic or more heroic versions of what would normally be seen as commonplace. These myths, half truths and embellished truths have begun to spread throughout the modern world like wildfire through the aid of the world wide web.

One interesting story circulating around the web which has doubtful origins revolves around the barong, the Philippine national formal dress for males. Online sources have varying accounts of the origin of the barong and certain authorities dispute the veracity of the popular version of the barong story. Like all popular disputed stories however, this one has the ability to gain a fanatic following. I must admit, I would have preferred the story to be true.

According to the popular barong story, the barong was once used as a sign that the wearer belonged to a lower social group. Filipinos were once required by Spanish colonizers to wear the early version of the barong. It was a nearly transparent garment so that the Spaniards could easily spot hidden weapons. It had no pockets so that no Filipino could pilfer Spanish valuables. It was also meant to be worn without being tucked as a sign of inferiority.

In time, middle class Filipinos who became successful in the fields of business and the academe emerged. Instead of looking for ways to discard the barong, they began to wear it with pride. This time, instead of settling for barongs made of inferior materials, the Filipinos began to make the garments out of exquisite cloths and hand wove delicate patterns on them.

This story could have been a source of great pride if it were completely proven to be true. The counter arguments however against the story include the fact that there is no record of the Spanish law that required the wearing of the barong. It is also possible that the barong may have been worn by our ancestors simply because the weather was too warm to wear anything else.

Whatever the truth of the matter is, I’d like to keep this story in my heart and tell it to my kids before they go to sleep at night.

I was born in Baguio City before the Flower Festival came into existence so while the rest of the country got into periodic bouts of overeating, I practically spent 10 years of my life not knowing that there was such a thing as a fiesta. When my family left for Cebu, the Sinulog fiesta became the very first fiesta I had ever experienced. I must say that as a kid, I liked the idea of not having classes and stuffing my face full of deliciously crispy roasted pork skin. These days though, I dread the coming of the city fiesta.

Filipino fiestas are still essentially celebrated for the same original reason for which they were instituted. The concept of the fiesta was brought to the Philippines by the Spaniards and each celebration was intended to commemorate the feast day of a patron saint. I wouldn’t know though if the saints themselves rejoice upon the idea of uncontrolled revelry, non-gender specific pageants and drunken fits held in their honor in modern fiestas.

Don’t get me wrong. I love fiestas. I just hate the fact that walking is the fastest mode of transportation that can get you anywhere, that your life and possessions are perpetually at risk from suspicious characters and that street company at night consists of inebriated zombies. This is probably why I almost always stay at home during fiestas unless I have the urge to punish my legs and risk my life. My current fiesta allergy is also the reason why I have my former student, MaryFGR a.k.a. artbabe to thank for the photos that will be my only source of memories for this year’s city fiesta.