We need more than a throwback

It was one of those days when, out of nowhere, an idea, a question or a memory just rings into your head, plants itself in front of your mind’s eye and refuses to go away.

“Sa Negros ang kwarta gina piko, gina pála.” (In Negros, the money is pick-axed, shoveled.)

“Sa Negros ang kwarta gina piko, gina pála.”

“Sa Negros ang kwarta gina piko, gina pála.”

These words were ringing in my head as I walked my way to the office. I immediately shared my thought to my colleagues when I arrived.

Surprisingly, a discussion was triggered because of it.

We talked about how the statement has become iconic of Negros, such that it has placed the Negrenses in a bad light among those who are not natives of the island, since it paints them as a tikalon (boastful) bunch.

There was even this tall story about a certain female politician, who, when she visited Negros for the first time, looked at the houses that her car passed from the airport and remarked in surprise how destitute the houses looked. All the while, she had thought the Negrenses were all filthy rich because of that expression: “Sa Negros ang kwarta gina piko, gina pála.”

There’s actually an explanation on how that line is supposed to be understood. It’s meant to show the Negrenses not as a boastful race, but as hardworking people who say that in order to earn money, they have to use the pickaxe and the shovel.

My conversation with my colleagues over this matter would take an interesting turn. We began to reminisce about the different songs, stories and other forms of entertainment we used to enjoy with our elders before technology took over.

These forms of simple entertainment were once loved, cherished and nourished, but now they’re largely gone.

The conversation created in me a deep longing for the things we had enjoyed as kids, and about which the current generation seems clueless.

My Lola would often sing to me “Ili-Ili Tulog Anay” when I was a kid. My favorite, though, even now, is “Dandansoy.” “Bakya Mo Neneng” is still the most heartbreaking song for me.

I remember the radio programs in Hiligaynon, like “Toyang Ermitanya,” “Condorilla” and “Provincial Jail,” and me as a little girl sitting on my Lolo’s lap or on the floor combing my Papa’s hair while pulling out with tweezers his white hair (a very easy job, since most of his hair was already turning white).

Oh, those memories — fond ones, sweet ones — during the days of innocence and play. Where are they now?

It’s been a long time since I heard any of our vernacular songs being broadcast on radio, much less on digital platforms. Now, the airwaves are dominated by songs from foreign countries and those in Filipino; very seldom do we hear radio channels play any song written in the language of the different islands in the Philippines.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not hating on the songs we have now; I love them, too. But I always get confused when a certain vernacular song coming from the provinces goes viral, but then gets translated into Filipino when sung on mainstream TV. The magic tends to get lost in the translation. Can’t we just provide Filipino and English subtitles instead?

I’m actually happy the Department of Education brought back the mother tongue to mainstream education. Now, kids greet us “Maayong aga, ma’am!” rather than the typical “Good morning, ma’am!” It’s proper and, at the same time, it’s authentic. The sentiment, and the language, are truly and proudly ours. It feels different in a nice way when it’s spoken in your own tongue. Or maybe that’s just me?

I know no language is superior to the other, so I hope the time will come soon when we will hear “Dandansoy” and other vernacular songs, old and new, played on stations again. I hope the time will come, too, when vernacular literature and culture will be celebrated just as much as we celebrate the culture of others. For these little molecules that make up our culture do not deserve to be shelved or forgotten. Rather, they should be told, retold and recorded for generations and generations to come.

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Rvie Macalisang-Santillan, 28, teaches creative writing in Nonescost. She also writes about the people and places of Negros in her blog www.veemacalisang.com.