‘Puntó’

The celebration of August as “Buwan ng Wikang Pilipino” (National Language Month) is slowly evolving, with a slow shift toward “Buwan ng mga Wikang Pilipino” (Month of Philippine Languages) coming about as we appreciate linguistic diversity.

This is important, given that we have more than 170 languages, the number becoming larger if we include the dialects for each language. (I have to reiterate that Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilocano, Maranaw, and many more are languages, NOT dialects. Sorry if I “shouted” but I cringe whenever a Filipino still says something like “Let’s listen to this song in the Cebuano dialect,” which reflects our lack of appreciation for our languages.

We could look at our many languages (and dialects) as confusing and even divisive but what divides us are not the languages per se but our perceptions of how people speak. In the Philippines, this is the way linguistic attributes come together as “puntó,” translated into English as “accent” and sometimes as tone or intonation but is much more, a convergence of different interpretations of phonemes and idioms.

Let’s start with the well-known “puntong Ilonggo,” so distinct that two strangers, after a minute or two of conversation, will recognize a fellow Ilonggo from the musicality and affectionate tone. (Another linguistic clarification: Ilonggo refers to people while Hiligaynon is the language spoken by the Ilonggo. And yes, there will be differences in Hiligaynon spoken, say in different parts of Panay, not to mention in Negros Occidental, when you cross over.)

Puntó has, however, come to take on an aggregate meaning beyond the tone. For example, the Ilokano “wen” for “yes” is pronounced differently in Cagayan Valley and in the Ilocos provinces, not to mention La Union, Pangasinan, and parts of Tarlac. There’s the most common version with a schwa, written this way: wən, an inverted e, which can be learned only by hearing it. That’s different from wen, pronounced like “when” without the “h.” But I’ve also heard wen becoming “wun” and even “one.” (Yes, there are jokes too about vendors getting confused whether a buyer wants “one” or is saying “yes.”)

Another more serious example: you’ll hear “puntong Bisaya”, which is actually “puntong Cebuano”, with a tone different from Hiligaynon. “Puntong Bisaya” focuses on the pronunciation of the vowels by Cebuanos, Ilonggos, and Warays, not to mention other Philippine languages. Put simply, this is limiting the vowels to “a,” “o” and “u.”

Sadly, “puntong Bisaya” is often used negatively, and as a form of discrimination. One YouTube video I saw while researching on our puntó is entitled “Nilait ng manager ang aplikante dahil sa may puntong bisaya, pinagsisihan nya ito bandang huli” (A manager mocks an applicant’s puntong Bisaya, and regrets this in the end). Long story short, a job applicant with a puntong Bisaya is hired as a janitor despite his high educational attainment because the hiring manager doesn’t like his puntó. One day though, the janitor is able to demonstrate his skills by writing a project proposal. The “punto-conscious” hiring manager loses his job to the janitor with the puntong Bisaya.)

In the real world, and I mean throughout the world, accents and tones are social markers that become a source of discrimination. The discrimination is often based on power differentials in relation to ethnicities.

We need to keep pushing for a national language that truly reflects what it means to be “Filipino,” including an acceptance of the many variations in our languages. Rather than becoming discriminatory, we should celebrate those variations like a chorale group with different voices.

That should include teaching the phonemes of Philippine languages including, for example, the schwa, which is found in many of our languages.

We also need to develop a more standardized orthography or spelling. Rizal pushed for such a system (including the letter “k,” which the Spaniards rejected) because he knew this was the key to literacy.

Poor spelling skills, including problems with punctuation, are found in both adults and children. I cringe whenever I drive past this huge sign on a gate near my home, which says it all about our dismal reading and writing: “Bawal Mona Pomasok Katok Mona Salamat. Po.”

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