Thanks for standing by for this second column about the, well, “tambay.”
Wednesday’s column, I talked about the “tambay’s” ancestor, the “kanto boy,” who could be loosely characterized in English as the neighborhood “bad boy,” hanging around doing nothing except smoke and drink and ogle and swear. Oh my, does that sound like someone we know?
The “kanto boy” did give way to the “tambay,” now covering older males as well and with more sinister connotations of involvement in criminal activities. But whether or not criminal, the stigma of the “tambay” comes with their alleged idleness, equated with indolence. The stereotype is no longer of a teenage punk but someone older, shirtless or with a “sando” raised halfway as he scratches away on a potbelly, occasionally scratching further south to throw in a sense of the lewd, of the “bastos” (disrespectful).
Even before President Duterte called out the troops to round up the “tambay,” several cities already expanded their antiloitering ordinances to target, specifically, shirtless men—in Filipino, “mga nakahubad.”
A quick explanation for non-Filipino speakers is in order. We differentiate “hubad,” just being shirtless, from “hubo,” being top- and bottom-less. A great example of a “hubong tambay,” with a fig leaf hiding an unofficial mascot, is UP’s Oblation, a statue of which is found greeting visitors in all our campuses.
Mr. Duterte’s “anti-tambay” drive gives a new focus for moral panic. The drug addicts were more difficult to wipe out, so Mr. Duterte’s hoping for an easier target, the “tambay.”
So far, public reaction has been ambivalent. People do dislike the shirtless “tambay,” but if the police get too drastic, the campaign could backfire against the President.
We shouldn’t forget, too, that a more benign version of the “tambay” has emerged over the years, and is not confined to the poor. Middle-class, even upper-class families, use the term to
refer to people, usually male relatives, who can’t find or keep a regular job and offer to do odd jobs like driving, cleaning, gardening, tending the family business. I have friends who even boast about having “tambay” with graduate degrees!
Again, these PhD “tambay” have ancestors, and these are the precolonial “aliping namamahay,” people who served households without wages but got fed and housed, sometimes even with their own houses built near their master’s.
A female equivalent would be the “alalay,” found especially with the local versions of royalty: politicians and show biz personalities. The “alalay” are always with their bosses, doing everything from carrying their bags and cell phones to warding off the unwashed masses. The “alalay’s” genealogy goes back as well to the “aliping namamahay.”
People complain all the time about their household “tambay” but will admit, in moments of candor, that they do appreciate having someone reliable and loyal, someone you can count on.
Blame these armies of “tambay”—whether in the slums or in upper-class mansions—on unemployment and underemployment. I’ve pushed some of my “tambay” to move on, even offering help so they can finish college or graduate studies.
But the “tambay” relationship can lead to dependency and codependency.
When you think about it, too, we are a nation of “tambay.” We wait all the time in long queues—for transportation, for official documents, for the doctor running to Quezon City from her other clinic in Alabang, for the priest to whom we confess sins of impatience and lustful thoughts while waiting.
That’s forced waiting, but we also wait, we “loiter”—in UAAP sports competitions and state funerals (remember Ninoy’s and Cory’s) and all kinds of events. All because we care.
I knew there was a song about all this. It was a wonderful old song at Harry and Meghan’s wedding titled “Stand by Me,” or, in Filipino, “Istambay Me.”
Aren’t weddings gatherings, too, of “tambay”? Two people committed to being “tambay” for each other, and the community likewise pledging to be “tambay” for them?
Just don’t get caught shirtless. Better still, wear T-shirts with some shout-out message like “You Can Count on Me: Proud to be Tambay.”
mtan@inquirer.com.ph