My ‘Tsinoy apo’
What a frenzied Chinese New Year weekend it was with social obligations, and my finalizing manuscripts for two books.
So busy was the weekend that I could only look quickly at photos and a video sent to me on Viber with a note, “Ang bago mong apo (Your new grandchild).”
It was only on Monday morning that I jumped out of bed and began to fret about the new apo: was he being breastfed? Did he get his BCG to protect against TB?
I looked at his video and smiled as I caught someone commenting in the background, “Singkit, ‘no?” Doesn’t he have Chinese eyes? (I don’t want to use the more common English translation, which has become racist.)
Singkit, I thought, would make a nice nickname.
His parents did choose one of the names I had suggested, meaningful and gender-neutral, no pressure to become a lion or warrior. But they only used one name so I texted them: “He needs a second name and here are some suggestions.”
I thought of sending suggestions for a Chinese name but controlled myself from becoming a nosey Lo/La, knowing there was no urgency there. I will admit though that in my senior years I’ve been more conscious about working harder to instill a stronger sense of being ethnic Chinese among my children (rather belatedly) and now, grandchildren.
I grew up reacting against what I felt bordered on Chinese chauvinism around me, so I didn’t push very hard, with my children about having to follow Chinese traditions. My kids took Chinese in school but we rarely used it at home. Being Chinese has been mainly eating Chinese food.
I’m regretting that. One can and should keep a Chinese identity. Even my children have been asking more questions about my parents, who they refer to as Lolo and Lola rather than Angkong and Ama. Last year they went with me to Taiwan, and are asking when we can go to China.
I’m determined to use Chinese, both Mandarin and Minnan (the local language used by most Chinese who migrated to the Philippines).
The usual reason given for learning Chinese is that it will be useful for those who want to do business with China and Taiwan later, but that isn’t my main motivation. As an anthropologist, I believe that recognizing our cultural roots is an asset for life.
I thought of my latest apo, who, when he grows older, will learn about the Chinese zodiac cycle and how he missed becoming a dragon because he was born at 5 p.m., a few hours before we entered the Chinese Year of the Dragon but I will tell him he can still be a rabbit and a nearly-dragon.
I’ll explain these zodiac animals are metaphors to make sense of people and life, sharing with him the folk legend of the Great Race, where the Jade Emperor (Buddha in other versions) organized a competition between animals, after whom a 12-year cycle would be named.
I will read to my apo one version of this Great Race, as told by a Chinese-American professor of history. The dragon was formidable, and could easily have won the race by simply flying across the river but ended up only the fifth and the reason for the lag was, and I’m quoting verbatim: “The dragon decided to stop and help some creatures she had encountered on the way.”
Yes, this modernized version has a she-dragon, and why not? I’ll tell my apo, too, about how Chinese authorities are trying to promote the Chinese dragon, empathically differentiating it from the fearsome Western fire-breathing dragon. The Chinese dragon is gentler, almost playful. Yes, there’s probably a political angle to the way the Chinese dragon is depicted.
My Tsinoy apo will learn that there are at least five kinds of Chinese food and that there are different Chinese ethnicities and languages. He will hear of the folktales of China—new and old—as well as the riddles (bugtong) and folk tales, epics, and music of the Philippines
He will learn about and be proud of the lannang (our people, the term used by many Filipino-Chinese to refer to each other), but without arrogance and exceptionalism, the same way he must discover his mother’s roots in Pangasinan, and all the other “home” provinces we have—those of my father (Davao in the south) and my mother (Cagayan in the north). I’ve planned on more trips to discover being Ilocano, being Bisaya so someday, on his own, with special friends or a special friend, he will discover that home, and identity, are where the heart is.
My Tsinoy apo will grow up Chinese-Filipino, a citizen of the world, and of our planet.
