Rhona Canoy
SO... As requested by Bruh Cong Corrales, let’s talk about talk, baby. This is not a political treaties, nor is it an academic research thesis. Just my two cents’ worth in layman’s terms on the complex and interesting aspects of communication, using the English language.
Much is constantly being made about President Duterte’s verbal outbursts and how it is perceived by his audience, which now includes a global scope. Here’s the thing. The reality of it is that all of us are subject to the same conditions and queer limitations when we communicate in a language over which we do not have perfect command.
One must understand that if we have a first language (that which we call our native and predominant tongue) other than English, there is a translation process that automatically happens in our brain whenever we want to say something. What we want to say is expressed instinctively.
“Makapahulay lang unta ko karong udto.” This comes naturally to us and is also instinctively understood by those who share our first language. This starts to get complicated when we have to say it in English. The limitations appear because how this is translated is primarily dependent on our English grammar skills and scope of vocabulary.
Translating from one language to another carries with it the inherent risk of losing something in the process. “Lost in translation” is actually a lot truer than we think. And for the most part, we don’t realize it when it happens. How we translate is dependent on our fluency in both languages and the contexts of our statements.
“Hina-ut unta mapaka-on ta mo.” Don’t even get me started on how this will commonly get translated. Another aspect of how we translate thoughts is dominated by the usual English usage in our lives. Teachers will translate this differently from lawyers, who will translate it differently from social workers, who will certainly translate it differently from the peanut vendor on the sidewalk (who of course can speak her brand of English).
Another thing that we don’t account for is that language is also driven by our inherent moods, and how we view our existence. I don’t know why this is so, but it is. There is a distinct change in vocabulary from when we are angry or frustrated to when we are happy and content. Maybe I should do some research on that. I know the study of neurolinguistics has some helpful insights into this, but I’m not in the mood to go back to school as yet.
Add to this mix the importance of syntax (not the kind levied on tobacco and alcohol!) in the English language and we are in for a wild ride. Syntax roughly defined is the particular order by which words are arranged in a sentence which gives the sentence its specific meaning. English is a very syntactical language. Visayan is not.
How many hearts have been won by “I only have eyes for you…”? Try translating that into Visayan. For those who are wrapped in the romance bubble, those words need no further explanation. Kilig pa more. Here’s the funny part. When lyricist Al Durbin wrote the words to this song, he had to do some creative rearranging to fit composer Harry Warren’s musical measures. In proper syntax and context, the sentence should have read, “I have eyes for only you.”
However, to make the sentence more rhythmical, the words were rearranged to the now-famous “I only have eyes for you,” the most ambiguous sentence ever! Here are possible meanings:
I see nothing and no one else, just you.
Only my eyes are for you, the rest of me is fair game for others.
I only have eyes for you, no one else sees you.
But because the song (both lyrics and melody) is presented in such a way that predisposes us to the romantic definition, we accept the words without questioning what they mean. So next time somebody whispers those words in your ear, whisper back, “What exactly do you mean?”
Let’s move on to using the currently popular “p***ng ina.” What havoc the English translation wreaked when first these words were directed at the beloved American President Obama. How horrible that the little brown man could call him the “son of a whore.” Shall we take this apart? Literally, “whore mother”. Shortened version of “your mother is a prostitute”. So from a syntactical perspective, it was translated wrong. Of course, made worse by attacking Obama’s mother.
For those unfamiliar with the Afro-American culture, there is a verbal interaction called “dozens” where the goal is to utter the most insults against the other person’s mother. In effect, Duterte called Obama out to a global dozens. Although I agree that it was uncouth for our president to use this term in a public diplomatic situation, you cannot argue the fact that this is a common expression which flows out of Pinoys’ mouths countless times in a day. And that it is not seen as a literal epithet, but rather a figurative expression that can be both positive and negative. Similar to the American overuse of the F word.
Here’s another wrench into the works. Can you imagine what comes out in the end after anything has been translated from Visayan to English into whatever final language it needs to be converted to? Included in this complex equation is the ability of the translator to understand the cultural context of expressions, sentences, words, along with his or her language constraints, and mood at that particular moment? A world war could be started just because someone said, “Malaparohan ta man hino-on ka.”
And now, the cherry on the proverbial cake. There is in each of us the arrogant aspect of “This makes sense to me, so there is no reason why this cannot be understood by the listener.” Yes, Cong, you and I have this too. So please don’t assume because (as the word is spelled) it makes an ass out of u and me.
At this time, and certainly at this point, I’m not even going to go into discussing appropriate diplomatic language. That requires a separate column in itself. All I’m trying to do is to present an alternative perspective to the extremely complex process of making sense of someone’s utterances.
So, have fun seeing how well and how accurately you can translate the Visayan sentences in this article into English, then English to Tagalog. With disambiguity. Get in touch with me when you think you have it down pat.
