In our household, we speak three languages: English, Tagalog, and Bicolano. Or rather, some of us speak some of these things, and the rest of us adjust depending on the situation.
It’s interesting that tone and context varies depending on what language I speak. How I “think” seems drastically different. I express my thoughts better in English; I express my feelings better in Tagalog, but not half as well as in Bicolano.
We had a discussion recently about the differences in the Filipino languages. Now, for a quick overview: Tagalog is the “official” language of the Philippines, but the country isn’t monolith and other provinces have different traditions/cultures/languages (and each province is further divided into OTHER dialects, some of which sound almost completely different from another). I’m Bicolano, and so are my cousins; my husband is Tagalog. So in our household, we speak Tagalog most of the time (even though there is only one Tagalog in the house but this is Filipino decorum–you adjust based on the minority, so that if there’s someone who can’t understand any Filipino language within earshot, even if they’re not part of the conversation, we switch to English). Once in a while, though, my cousins and I would switch to Bicol simply because there’s things we can express in it that we can’t in any other language.
An observation I made to my cousin recently is that to my Bicolano ear, EVERYTHING sounds impolite. English is impolite, because colloquially it lacks the nuances to create a more respectful tone. Tagalog has this when you pepper in “po” and “opo.” But Bicolano defaults to passive voice…if you’re buying something in Bicolano and then translate it to Tagalog or English, it would sound outdated, like someone saying, “Please, sir, if you don’t mind, I would like to buy something from your store.” My Bicolano is not very strong (I can understand it very well, but I get tongue-tied outside our hometown’s dialect), so I feel conscious if I have to switch to Tagalog in front of an elder. It reeks of “Hey, look at this person who didn’t even bother to learn the language so she can offer her respects,” and even though the elder is often just happy I’m paying a visit, I feel ashamed.
When we had this discussion, I suddenly realized why my own voice when writing defaults to passive. I’m AWARE I sometimes beat around the bush, or approach a topic from an angle, but it’s my default mode that I worry about later during editing. That’s my Bicolano roots, the respect my elders taught me (and they often moan they didn’t do a very good job :P).
The other interesting thing, however, is that Bicolano sounds “angry” to the outsider’s ear. Our humour is black humour. What may sound extremely brutal in English, or plain angry in Tagalog, can be comical in Bicol. It’s all in the tone. It’s so expressive. (And when we’re angry? If I’m angry in English I’ll throw a few F words around but being angry in Bicolano is like an assault). Our Ilonggo friends, on the other hand, sounds the complete opposite–even when they’re angry they sound really, really calm.
Anyway, just some interesting observations in a common arrangement in a Filipino household. Next time, I’ll talk about how we rib each other on the different things we call the same thing… “You call it WHAT?” Or not.
