By Anonymous
Being born and raised in Metro Manila, Philippines, I learned three languages: Tagalog, Filipino, and English. Oftentimes, even fellow Filipinos confuse Tagalog with Filipino. Simply put, Tagalog is the language of the people who lived by the Pasig River. Hence, it is a combination of the words “taga,” which means from, and “ilog,” which means river. That said, Tagalog may also be considered an older and deeper version of Filipino since Filipino is the adaptation of all languages (even Spanish) in the country. Furthermore, the Filipino language has also borrowed words from Spanish, such as ~kuwarenta, kotse, niyebe~, and the like.
My experience in language could be compared to music. Not because I listened to a lot of songs but rather because of how I interpret all the languages I know. Filipino has a certain sound that makes it different from Tagalog. Filipino tends to sound more polished and modernized while Tagalog has a feeling of nostalgia and culture to it. English, on the other hand, sounds like a gem. Speaking, listening, and reading in English has the right mix of polished nostalgia. If I were to compare the three with sounds, Tagalog would be like the sounds of chickens in the morning, which are loud, rough, and distinct. Filipino would be like the sound of the bass because it is more refined, and the bass makes me feel my own heartbeat. English, however, sounds like the whispers of the winds. The whistling noise the wind makes is not as loud as Filipino and Tagalog; it is not refined the way Filipino is nor rough like Tagalog, but it is calming and just right.
Growing up, I have always had difficulty with spelling. This is mostly because in Filipino, there is a saying – “Kung anong bigkas, siyang baybay” – which literally means ‘how you speak is how you spell.’ This made spelling English words difficult because words like colonel would register to me as kernel, which is incorrect but also funny. It is funny because I was so comfortable and used to the sound of my culture that English did not feel as seamless and easy. That was until I attended private schools wherein they implemented the speaking-only-in-English rule. This honed my English skills but also caused me to develop an accent. I do not know if it is common knowledge in other countries, but there is a concept called Filipino accent and Conyo accent. A Filipino accent would pronounce comfortable as _kom-por-ta-bol_ instead of _komf-ta-ble. _ Conyo accent, on the other hand, is having a foreign accent to Filipino words when you code-switch. An example of this is saying, “I’m so nagigigil na,” which roughly translates to ‘I am getting really irritated now.’ Code-switching while retaining the English accent is the rough definition of Conyo. In private schools, the format of starting to speak in English and ending with the Filipino language while retaining the English accent is a common phenomenon.
The accents, tones, and words of the three languages I know are just music to my ears. They all have distinct tones and sounds. When I hear other people speaking a language I do not know, it sounds like noise or gibberish because, in a literal sense, language is just sound that we collectively use, speak, and recognize. I came across this realization when I watched videos of Korean Idols trying to speak in English and other languages. People have a distinct sound that differs from country to country, which really puts things in perspective. People in every country and every single island have differences which they hold dear to keep their identity. That is what I love about language. It is the sound of culture.