‘Binisaya’

I WAS just in Cebu to give the commencement speech at our UP campus there. I thought that readers—whether Bisaya or not—might be interested in some parts of the speech where I talked about the history and languages of the region.

For today’s column, I want to focus on the language aspect. There is a tendency, among non-Visayans, to think of “Bisaya” as one language when in fact there are at least 16 languages listed by the Summer Institute of Linguistics’ Ethnologue as spoken in the Visayas alone. The largest ones are Cebuano, Ilonggo (or Hiligaynon) and Waray, but besides these three there are several others like Capiznon and Kiniray-a. One language, Karolanos, is spoken only in Kabankalan, Negros Occidental.

Some of these languages have been dwindling, in part because of the larger languages tending to take over—for example younger Kiniray-a shifting to Ilonggo. But even the larger languages like Cebuano have suffered because of the way “Bisaya” in general is always being put down. The tendency for Cebuanos especially is to protest and to refuse to use Tagalog, but in the process, they (the upper and middle classes especially) end up using English.

It’s time to “rebel” by using local Visayan languages. With the Department of Education’s mother language policy, which requires the use of the main local language in all public schools up to Grade 3 as the medium of instruction for all subjects, we will see a revival of many of these languages, which will actually enrich Philippine culture as a whole.

Despite this linguistic diversity, in the many years that I worked with health and development programs in the Visayas and Mindanao, I’ve come to recognize that there is a “Binisaya” culture that transcends language, and I’m hoping a restored pride in Binisaya—in language, arts, cooking, architecture—will contribute to our being Filipino.

<STRONG>‘Bisaya,’ Filipino</STRONG>

I urged the new graduates to go back and read the Spanish Jesuit Ignacio Francisco Alzina, whose “Historia de las islas e indios de Bisayas” (History of the Islands and Indios of the Visayas) was first published in 1668, and of which the  English translation has been published as well over the last 10 years by the UST Press. It has three volumes of fascinating materials about the Visayas, describing its rich natural resources, as well as the culture.

That early, Alzina already noted that the “Bisaya” were not just in the Visayas but also in Mindanao and Luzon—suggesting that early Philippine culture was strongly Bisaya. To the north, he mentioned the gold mines of Paracale, Camarines Sur, which belonged to the “Bisayan natives.” To the south, there were the mines of Caraga (in Alzina’s time, the provinces of Surigao and Agusan) also described as belonging to the Bisaya. This Caraga region impressed the Spaniards because of its gold reserves and the gold craftsmanship.

Again, I referred our new graduates to the Ayala Museum’s new publication, “Philippine Ancestral Gold,” which documents the lavish gold ornaments from the Visayas and Mindanao. By lavish I mean almost extravagant, maluho in Filipino.  Imagine draping the shoulders with a 4-kilogram gold ornament as an indicator of social status. You will see that ornament, called a “caste cord,” in the Ayala Museum.

Let me save a longer review of Ayala Museum’s book for a future column and get back now to Alzina. This prolific Jesuit writer had an interest in languages and praised Visayan languages for their “extensiveness, variety and preciseness,” even suggesting the languages as being equal—in richness—to Greek, Latin and Hebrew.

As an example of this richness, he marveled at how “Bisaya” (probably Waray, because he spent most of his missionary life in Samar) had so many words for washing. While in Spanish there is only “lavar,” he said the Bisaya had specific words for washing pots and pans (hugas), washing fish and meat (lawsaw), washing the entire body (parigus), washing the feet (pamusa), washing the hands (hunay) and, being a priest, he just had to mention “washing the most secret and hidden parts of the body.”

<STRONG>Sensual</STRONG>

Likewise, he observed that while the Spaniards had only one word, “desabrido,” for tasteless food, the Bisaya had “more than twenty words, even thirty” to express tastelessness or displeasure. Alcina said Bisaya had an abundance of metaphors, and had compiled some 600 proverbs.

One quick digression: It’s not just the Visayan languages that are so “sensual.” Philippine languages generally have many adjectives that relate to the senses, especially smell and taste. Just think of the Tagalog terms for foul smells, everything from spoiled food to perspiration.  Conversely, we have all kinds of positive or pleasant metaphors for smells, for example, “amoy baby,” smelling like a baby.

Back to Alzina. The Jesuit did observe the absence of “po” in Bisaya, but had this to say about the Tagalogs’ use: “…they are accustomed to insert as many po’s, which is a heap of courtesies.” Alzina was not impressed though, observing that the Tagalogs tended to use “po” too much, in a way that “they become nothing but coarse commonplaces and even vulgarisms.” He said the “po” is like the Spanish “señor” (translated as “sir” in the UST book). His example of how this “heap of courtesies” sounds goes this way: “I have come, sir, to see you, sir, and to give you, sir, something to eat, sir, etc.”

Alzina’s observation struck me because Tagalogs do sometimes put down people from the Visayas because of this lack of “po,” accusing the Bisaya of being impolite. Yet, Alzina correctly observed that courtesies were “never lacking” among the Bisaya, who expressed politeness through “bodily gestures.”

I wanted to end today’s column on a light note, referring  to the way “binisaya” is used, to mean things local or “native.”  It’s this usage of “binisaya” that tells me there is this Bisaya identity that transcends all the different languages.

I first encountered the term when, fresh out of college, I was assigned to work on medicinal plants. In the Visayas and Mindanao, the plants were always being referred to as “binisayang tambal,” literally Visayan medicine, a way of differentiating these medicines from western medicine.

Then there is “manok bisaya,” referring to the “native” chicken.  The Tagalogs also have a similar term: “manok Tagalog.”  People do complain that “manok bisaya” tends to be smaller and skinnier, but at the same time say it tastes better.

Sometimes, people in the Visayas will also refer to the smallest child in a brood as “binisaya.” It all reflects the way we think of things native and local as smaller. Perhaps, I told our UP Cebu graduates, we could retort that like the “native” chicken, we are “gamay pero lami,” small but tasty (oops), or small but terrible. But really, I still prefer much more of an assertion “bisdak,”—“bisaya dako,” “dako” as big, and let’s roll in sensuous, sensual and strong as well. Mabuhi Bisaya!

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