Double Speak

The Asian Journal
Emails from the Desert...
Dr. Edgar A. Gamboa
Double Speak

It is not exactly the French "double entendre"; but, one finds in the Visayan lingo double words or curiously repeated words. If I wrote this piece sweating ink to achieve content and style, it would be tinu-uray nga sulat (authentic or honest-to-goodness writing). However, if I were sitting bored during a lecture and started doodling, without much thought (huna-huna) or deliberation (duha-duha), that would be sulat-sulat or suwat-suwat. Genuine poetry is balak, while a drunkard's wild verses would be balak-balak.

If you mastered ballroom dancing and participated in "Dancing with the Stars", you would definitely be dancing (sayaw). But if you were just gyrating in front of the mirror in your room, without much regard for footsteps or rhythm, you would just be dancing-dancing or nag sayaw-sayaw lang. Unless, you were doing the itik-itik, the traditional "duck dance. "  But  then again, the repetitive word makes sense because the Bayanihan folk dancer in you is not the real Donald Duck (itik).

Similarly, if you whistled at a pretty girl -- like in the good old days when you would not be sued for sexual harassment -- that would be taghoy.. If you were in the shower, whistling a tune that was neither here nor there, your effort, no matter how virtuoso the repertoire, would merely be taghoy-taghoy (“whistle squared”).

Repeating an action word weakens or diminishes the verb, as if the particular action is not performed in a serious or deliberate manner. Thus sulat-sulat is writing something without diligence or concentration and sayaw-sayaw is dancing without much regard for technique or gracefulness.

The classic double entendre is a figure of speech which carries two meanings, one of which may not be readily apparent. But in Visayan, the second word renders the original noun, pronoun or verb smaller in size (balay or ba'ay is a house, while balay-balay or ba'ay-ba'ay is a playhouse or a small nipa hut ), quicker or short-lived (bisita-bisita is a short, quick visit), or incomplete (tulug-tulug or tug-tug means half asleep and higda-higda literally means not quite lying supine in bed).
 
Hilak is to cry; hilak-hilak is to also to cry but not as much tears ("crocodile tears") should be flowing down one's cheeks. Patay means dead, but patay-patay as in patay-patay ug trabaho is working oneself to death. Saka is to climb or go upstairs; saka-saka is constant or repetitious climbing. Itoy is a puppy; itoy-itoy is to follow meekly, which is a docile puppy's desirable trait.

Repetitions are not confined to action words. This linguistic technique is commonly applied to pet or nicknames, as in TonTon, Ging-ging, Tingting, JunJun, Lingling, etc.  Note also the Visayan penchant for names ending in "-ing" – Carling, Darling, Coring, Naning, Paking, Pacing, Taling, etc.

Doubling is also a technique for describing a structure that is temporary or unreliable, as in "atup-atup" (a makeshift roof). Or something that is false as in kwarta-kwarta (counterfeit or play money). Interestingly enough, gamay-gamay should denote a small person or animal but it commonly refers to the "small but terrible" individual who possesses extraordinary traits (strength, intelligence, courage, etc.). Thus, gamay-gamay lang pero maayong laki or bright kaayo (he/she is small but very smart).
 
Interestingly, why is someone gifted with a high IQ maayong laki, not maayong babae? Was it because goodness in the male species in the old Visayas was perceived to be akin to intelligence and goodness in women to virtue? But, we digress. That difference can be the subject of another linguistic exploration.

In an archipelago of 7,100 islands (depending on whether it's high or low tide, of course), going for a swim in pristine, ever-inviting waters is a favorite pastime among Filipinos.  But rarely do weekend swimmers undertake a strenuous long distance swim. It is delightful enough to just languy-languy (swim-swim) because the water might be, who knows, slightly deep (laum-laum). On the weekend, at the beach, while the children are playing (dula-dula or duwa-duwa), the adults can rest a bit (pahulay-pahulay) after designating someone to watch the kids (bantay-bantay) every so often, from the corner of one's eye, because real close surveillance would be bantay. 
 
One must run away from a mad dog (DAGAN!) but one can take a leisurely jog to exercise (dagan-dagan). Or play hide and seek (tago-tago). Or a game of catch with water-marked ground boundaries (tubig-tubig).

If you think about it, so many Visayan words are verbalized twice:  kaon-kaon (snacks, not a real big dinner), ila-ila (to introduce), tan-aw-tan-aw (to view in bits and pieces or not to stare), tambal-tambal (home remedy, not administered by a nurse or doctor),  sakit-sakit (not a full blown illness or something not too painful which can easily be treated with hilot-hilot, a bit of the native treatment), kanta-kanta (to sing as an amateur in Tawag Nang Tanghalan (the erstwhile Philippine version of American Idol) and not to worry if one's vocal struggles are off pitch or the wrong tone). By the way, if one sings yabag-yabag, that is arang-arang (a bit better) because the gutsy Elvis impersonator is only slightly off key and not as hopelessly off scale as really yabag !

Even Visayan food is not immune. Bud-bud or bod-bod (suman in Tagalog, the popular delicacy made of steamed sweet rice wrapped in banana leaves), sapin-sapin, another colorful delicacy, and halo-halo are good examples. When in the kitchen, chop the meat and veggies well (tad-tad or tagud-tagud) and take time to cook properly, not just luto-luto, which is playful or careless cooking.

At times, words are repeated to convey courtesy. One might ask guests to lingkud-lingkud lang una  (just sit down), or hulat-hulat lang or hulat-hulata lang (please wait a while Sir (or Ma'am) and please be patient, as when one is confined in the reception room of a busy physician's office). A gracious host and hostess would always politely ask their guests to kindly return soon (balik-balik unya).

Words are so oft repeated that one wonders if the Visayan brain is wired twice or if a significant cultural event in the past (pre-dating the Visayan Lapu-Lapu, the fierce chieftain of Mactan who resisted the Spanish Invasion and killed the renowned explorer Ferdinand Magellan, because this First Filipino hero's name is also doubled!), or a royal edict or something had mandated verbal repetitions. 
 
Or is it simply because the Asian attitude is to be delicate and sensitive, rather than forceful and forthcoming, and the mere repetition of words conveys such courtesy?

If a husband goes out drinking with friends (barkada), it is not advisable to tell his wife that he is going out to drink (inum) tuba (coconut wine) or San Miguel beer. It is more diplomatic to say he will just inum-inum (have a few small drinks) with his friends. He might also say, as my uncle used to say, that he was just going out for a walk or suroy-suroy ( to wander around aimlessly) . Or, lakaw-lakaw lang which means to take a walk with no particular destination. And perhaps to smell the flowers along the way – simhot-simhot lang. 

Hinay is to go slow. Is hinay-hinay slower than slow or slower than fast? Or is it the courteous and proper way to tell someone to slow down. If the front seat passenger (or wife) tells the driver (or husband) to drive slowly (hinay), Mr. Andretti  might feel insulted. But not if his wife requested, in her melismatic voice, to "hinay-hinay lang, Darl." That way, there will be no lalis-lalis (a small argument).
 
Curiously, driving fast is pas-pas. You can tell a cab driver to go super pas-pas so you will not be late for your appointment, but you cannot tell the driver to pas. He will give you a puzzled look. Dali-dali is to hurry; the single dali is understood as hurry, but not the single pas.
 
The same goes for duc-duc or duk-duk, i.e., striking a nail with a hammer. You can't say the one word duk, as in i-duk ang lansang because that would not make sense. It will have to be duk-duka ang lansang (pound the nail). Same thing with calling the waiter or waitress with the time-honored sit-sit. No, you cannot just sit (pun intended).

You may recall encouraging your childhood playmates to climb a tree (kat-kat), but they would not have understood if you simply said kat.  Just as you could not ask your lavandera to lad – she had to lad-lad so your wet clothes could dry in the sun. Nor can you say do not dak, if you asked the lavandera not to drop (dak-dak) the laundry basket. Similarly, you could not simply say kut, if you wanted your household help to scrape (kut-kut) the coconut or cantaloupe for desert.
 

Along the same linguistic rule, you cannot say that your teeth are pud or pod from eating.  But if you said pud-pud, people will understand that you chipped or cracked your teeth from biting (kit-kit) on a sugar cane stalk or on an aged coconut.  Same thing with sug-sug if your hand catches a wood splinter. You just can't say sug.

If you are a sculptor, you cannot til (or chisel) something into art. Like Michelangelo, you will have to patiently til-til the marble into something remarkable.

Are Visayans naturally being diplomatic, courteous, sensitive to other people's feelings? Or are we plainly inefficient, having to speak twice as much, laden with human frailties?  Langay-langay (slow like a turtle), tapul-tapul (a bit lazy), sulti-sulti (to gossip or spread rumors), pala-pala (to flatter) – do these repetitious words define us?
 
Or are we rather faithful to a hallowed tradition? Sige-sige bisag unsaon (to go on despite the odds), simba-simba perme (to attend church often), tabang-tabang (to keep on helping) – are these our inherent ethnic virtues?

Whatever it is, double speak is the way Visayans talk.  I am not a Tagalog expert, having spent only a year in Manila for postgraduate internship at the Veterans Memorial Hospital. Much less am I an expert in the other Filipino tongues. But do barong-barong, dahan-dahan, tagal-tagal, etc. suggest a similar linguistic trait?

How about Hawaiians? Don't they like to dance the hula-hula, eat huli-huli chicken, and get a lomi-lomi massage? Is double speak solely a Visayan thing or a wider linguistic trait that originates from Asian /Pacific Islander roots?

I hope some expert linguist out there can sort out this sari-sari mystery for me. Then I can get out of this hilit-hilit (small corner) of our home and join my wife for kapi-kapi (a small cup of coffee).  Maybe...but what do we make of hong-hong (to whisper) and the quadruple honghong-honghong?

And what in the world is the rationale for tang-tang (to remove), bis-bis (to water the plants or flowers), bit-bit (to carry a purse or basket) and their rat-tat-tat quadruples: tang/tang-tang/tang – bis/bis-bis/bis – bit/bit-bit/bit????

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Olympics, Philippine Style

The Summer Olympics are over, I know. Life is back to normal -- at least, we have reverted to our nocturnal routines, catching up on sleep, and not reporting to work in the morning like zombies. Life is back to normal -- at least for us mere mortals, though perhaps not for Beijing celebrities like aqua man Michael Phelps and diminutive dynamo Shawn Johnson.

What struck me most about the Beijing Olympics was not the spectacular opening and closing ceremonies which the Chinese put up -- nor its government's ability to sugar coat human rights abuses (which reminded me of Imelda's whitewashing of slum districts to hide gross poverty from visiting dignitaries). I was mostly bothered by the story which Philstar and The Asian News carried: Lucio Offers P1M for Olympic Gold. Filipino athletes were being offered millions of pesos for bringing home Olympic medals. A memorandum of agreement had been entered into by business tycoon Lucio Tan and Philippine Olympic Committee president Jose Cojuango, which in effect would pay any gold-winning athlete in the Olympics P7 million.

Later reports indicate that the total award had ballooned to P9.5 million ($214,000) as other donors joined the bandwagon. I can imagine the handshaking and back patting which must have taken place at Lucio Tan's Century Park Hotel, where officials must have congratulated themselves for a job well done.

Republic Act 9164 offers P5 million for a gold medal, P2.5 for silver, and P1 million for bronze. Funds from government coffers, plus Philippine Airlines' P1 M, Microsoft-Philippines' P1 M, Jimmy Ong's P1 M, Manny Pacquiao's million and another half a million pesos from the Philippine Sports Writers Association come up to impressive monetary awards for our Filipino athletes. A gasoline company even came up with a year's free supply of gasoline and oil for winning Olympians and their coaches.

That's a lot of mullah. But there is something wrong in the picture. Firstly, the Olympics are intended for amateur athletes. Monetary awards are not part of the Olympics mission statement. Of course, in this day and age, it's naive to think that Phelps, Johnson, and other Olympic medalists are not going to be the recipients of lucrative endorsements. And one can argue that with the mix of amateur and professional athletes participating in the games, the line between unpaid amateurs and paid professionals have blurred. So why deprive our 15 Filipino participating athletes a shot at good fortune?

But the point really is, the Olympics cannot be won by last minute efforts. There are no shortcuts in these arduous tests of human endurance, skill, strength and performance every four years. Our fifteen Filipino athletes who competed in boxing, diving, swimming, weightlifting, shooting, archery, and taekwondo in Beijing should have been given the money four years before the beginning of the games so they could train properly for their respective events.

Is it any wonder, that after all these years, as the news story points out "no Filipino in the history of the Olympics has ever won a gold medal."? Since the 1924 Paris Olympics, the Philippines has won a measly total of 9 medals -- 7 bronze medals and 2 silvers. The Philippines has the distinction of being the country with the most medals except for gold.

Five of the nine medals won (and the two silver medals) have been in boxing. Anthony Villanueva won the silver medal for boxing (featherweight division) in Tokyo in 1964. Mansueto Velasco, fighting in the light flyweight division, won the second silver in Atlanta in 1996. The four bronze medals won outside of boxing were in swimming, in the 400 meter breaststroke (Amsterdam, 1928), the high jump (Los Angeles, 1932), the 200 meter breaststroke (Los Angeles, 1932), and the 400 meter hurdles (Berlin, 1936).

Does the United States, which brings home more medals than any country in the world, sign memorandum of agreements to entice its athletes to win? Do government officials and business tycoons meet the press to publicly offer monetary rewards for Olympians? No, money and resources are put into the rigorous training and long-term development of athletes years before the games begin. Endorsements are mere icing on the cake.

The Philippine government and its sports officials do not get it. You do not harvest unless you plant. And you cannot plant unless you prepare the soil properly. Instead of offering millions of pesos at the podium or the end of the line, they should put their money to good use by building adequate sports facilities, funding athletic programs, hiring good coaches, supporting promising athletes, etc., several years before the start of the Olympics. Failing to do the basic things, then glibly offering monetary rewards at the last minute is an exercise in futility and unproductive, self-serving publicity.

There is no reason that Philippine athletes, given the facilities to train, proper coaching, adequate nutrition, preparation, training, etc. will not perform spectacularly in future Olympics. We just need to put in the time, effort, and resources. We will not see the results we want, unless we put in the hard work. That is one lesson we, Filipinos, need to keep in mind.

And one lesson that does not apply only to sports, either.

New Filipino Nuncio

Papal Nuncio Archbishop-elect Barney Auza, Dr. Lucie Noel Gamboa, Dr. Ed Gamboa, inside the Vatican, at site of First Christian Martyrs.
Papal Nuncio. Papal Nuncio Archbishop-elect Barney Auza, Dr. Lucie Noel Gamboa, Dr. Ed Gamboa, inside the Vatican, at site of First Christian Martyrs.

Whether it's Ramiele Malubay showing Ryan, Paula, Simon, and Randy how a Filipina can sing on American Idol, or Arnel Pineda belting a song as the new lead vocalist of Journey, we celebrate -- and with justifiable pride and joy -- every time a Filipino or Filipina hits the international scene. Our nation of 90 million rarely gets the recognition it deserves. Shifted from center on the world stage, we are grateful for any spotlight out there.

Well, this month we really hit it big!

On May 8, 2008, the Vatican announced to the whole world that the Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, had appointed Reverend Monsignor Bernardito C. Auza, of the diocese of Talibon, Bohol, as Titular Archbishop of Suacia and Apostolic Nuncio to Haiti. Holding the rank of ambassador, the Nuncio is the diplomatic representative of the Holy See in countries with diplomatic relations with the Holy See. The Apostolic Nuncio has the double mandate of representing the Holy Father to the State to which he is accredited, and to the Catholic Church in that country.

Only the fourth Filipino nuncio in our history, Msgr. Barney, as he is fondly called, had, only two years ago, been appointed First Counsellor of the Permanent Observer Mission of the Holy See to the United Nations in New York. The appointment was good news to Msgr. Barney's many friends and family (some of whom reside in San Diego), but it was hardly a surprise. Msgr. Barney, who speaks fluent Italian, French, Spanish, in addition to English, Tagalog and his native Bisaya, is an intellectual powerhouse. In addition to his diplomatic experience, Msgr. Barney is also, in the words of Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines secretary general Msgr. Juanito Figura, "friendly and approachable". His rise in the Catholic Church hierarchy is well-deserved.

Born in Balintawak, Talibon, Bohol, on June 10, 1959, 48-year-old Msgr. Barney is the eight of twelve children of parents Meliton Garcia Auza and Magdalena Polestico Cleopas. After preliminary education in Talibon, he entered the Immaculate Heart of Mary Seminary in Tagbilaran City. He then enrolled at the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, where he obtained his Licentiate in Philosophy in 1981, Licentiate in Theology in 1986 and Masters in Education also in 1986. He was ordained to the priesthood on June 29, 1985, in California.

Msgr. Barney was sent to the University of St. Thomas (Angelicum) in Rome, where he obtained a Licentiate in Canon Law in 1989 and a Doctorate in Sacred Theology in 1990, and to the Vatican Diplomatic School (Pontificia Accademia Ecclesiastica), where he finished his diplomatic and linguistic studies in that same year.

Thereafter, he served as secretary to the apostolic Nunciature in Madagascar and Mauritius (1990-1993) and in Bulgaria (1993-1996). He was appointed counsellor in Albania in 1997 and then served as charge d' affaires of the Apostolic Nunciature in London. From 1999 to 2006, Msgr. Barney worked as counsellor at the Section for Relations with States (the “Foreign Ministry” of the Holy See) of the Secretariat State, in the Vatican. He worked at the Holy See Permanent Observer Mission of the Holy See to the United Nations in New York from the summer of 2006 until his appointment as Apostolic Nuncio to Haiti. The highlight of his New York experience was the recent visit of the His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI to the United Nations and New York on April 18-20, 2008.

Msgr. Barney Auza is the fourth nuncio from the Philippines. The first Filipino nuncio is Archbishop Osvaldo Padilla of Cebu City who was named by the late Pope John Paul II (the Great) as nuncio to Panama in December 17,1990. Archbishop Padilla currently serves as apostolic nuncio to Korea and Mongolia.

The second nuncio is Archbishop Adolfo Yllana of Naga City, appointed December 13, 2001, and currently nuncio to Pakistan. The third is Archbishop Francisco Padilla, younger brother of the first nuncio, appointed Titular Archbishop of Nebbio on April 1, 2006, and presently the nuncio to Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands.

Msgr. Barney Auza's ordination as Archbishop is scheduled to be held at St. Peter's Basilica, in the Vatican, on July 3, 2008 at 5 pm. The ordination will be conferred by His Eminence the Secretary of State, Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, with as co-consecrators His Eminence Cardinal Jean-Louis Tauran, President of the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue, and Archbishop Francesco Monterisi, Secretary of the Congregation for Bishops. It will be an event many will cherish.

Lucie and I first met Msgr. Barney in Rome in the summer of 1990 when Fr. Roque "Khing" Vano introduced us. He was then a young priest, who had just finished his degree in Canon Law and was embarking on a diplomatic career.

Msgr. Barney showed us the City of Rome and the Vatican that tourists rarely see, such as the site of the First Martyrs. Through the years, he has made it possible for us to obtain Papal audiences and special events at the Vatican, such as the beatification of Pedro Calungsud. Through his rise in the Church, Msgr. Barney has remained as friendly and approachable as his peers have attested.

On one occasion, when my sister Susan had trouble getting transportation to the Leonardo da Vinci - Fiumicino airport in Rome, Msgr. Barney was there first thing in the morning to personally drive her so she would not miss her flight.

It is a joy to see a great Filipino priest ascend the steps to higher office, where he surely will influence for the good the lives of many.

Congratulations to Archbishop Barney Auza !!!

The Third Culture

If you were born and raised in the Philippines and now find yourself living in a different country, you are likely a child of "the third culture", whether you are fully aware of it or not. I came across this concept when I read a book written by Fr. Thomas Green, S.J.

Fr. Thomas Green is a native New Yorker. Born and raised in Rochester, he studied philosophy and theology at Bellarmine College, Plattsburgh, New York and at Woodstock College in Maryland. He earned advanced degrees in education and physics from Fordham University and a PhD in Science from the University of Notre Dame.

Fr. Tom was a young Jesuit scholastic in 1956 (he was ordained a priest in 1963) when he was assigned to missionary work in Japan. Set to embark on his journey, his mission was switched instead to the Philippines. For fifty-two years, he has served as spiritual director and retreat master at San Jose Seminary in Manila and Professor of Philosophy and Theology at Ateneo de Manila University.

Fr. Tom is an internationally acclaimed author of eight books on prayer and spirituality. His popular books, including Weeds Among the Wheat, A Vacation with the Lord and Drinking from a Dry Well, have been translated into many languages, such as French, German, Italian, Spanish, Korean, and Indonesian.

In his very first book, Opening to God (published by Ave Maria Press in 1977 and revised in 2006), Fr. Tom writes about a shrinking world -- what we now call the global village -- and the sociological concept of a “third culture”.

It is not to be confused with the Third World. Rather, it is what happens when two cultures collide or blend, as the case may be, in an individual. It is what happens when a young New Yorker priest like Fr. Green resides for over fifty years in the Philippines (and wonders whether he has become more Filipino than American) or when a Filipino physician like me lives and works in America for thirty plus years (and wonders where his heart really belongs to).

“Who am I really?” Fr. Tom asks. “To cling to my ‘Americanism’ in an alien culture”, he continues, “would be a certain formula for frustration and ineffectiveness. To seek to become wholly Filipino would mean reverting to the womb and living over again my whole history – an impossible task...Who am I then? Am I rootless, or am I rooted in two soils at once?”

“These questions can provoke a real identity crisis, “Fr. Tom admits. “But it is also possible, thank God, that they be productive, although not without pain, of a real personal deepening and enrichment.... I am a child of a third-culture...The child of the third culture has a unique perspective. He can, if he has the eyes, begin to discern the constant and fundamental human values which underlie all concrete cultural embodiments of these values.”

When I read these passages, the proverbial light bulb glowed brighter. Rather than being bothered by “straddling the fence” (which I wrote about in last week's column), I saw the unique possibilities open to the “child of the third culture”. I foresaw the gifts bestowed to a “citizen of the world”.

We recognize the frailties inherent in Filipino culture – a “crab mentality” which leads to pettiness and disunity, a “manana habit” which lends to inefficiency, or tribal and regional loyalties which contribute to government corruption. But we also see its beauty and richness – “the bayanihan spirit” of cooperation, a natural respect for elders and authority, treasured family relationships, a deep sense of spirituality and religiosity.

On the other end, we know the problems with American culture: greed, materialism, and individuality. Even as we appreciate its strength and virtues: a national identity, efficiency and productivity, generosity, freedom and equality.

Why, then, do we not carefully gather instead the richness of the Filipino culture as well as the virtues of American culture and incorporate these as our own “third culture”? Having found something much more valuable, we can simply leave behind the foibles of our Filipino culture while shunning the negative aspects of Americanism.

As we continue to walk through a “cross-cultural experience” at the “intersection of two worlds”, Fr. Tom thinks we “can discover (our) real roots as human beings...and wonder at, and be enriched by, the very diversity of expression of these roots.”

Belonging to "the third culture" can be a gift and a challenge.

Reference: Thomas H. Green, S.J., “Opening to God”, Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana, 1977, 13-14.

Straddling the Fence

It happens to all immigrants. You live in a foreign land long enough and you begin to ask yourself which country you really belong to.

When you first arrive in the United States, everything’s new and impressive. Disneyland in Anaheim. Seaworld and the San Diego Zoo. The Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. The Statue of Liberty in Ellis Island. The White House in Washington DC.

You travel across the country and the camp sites are endless – from Kilauea Volcano National Park in the Big Island of Hawai'i to the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Appalachians. Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, the Rockies -- you may have seen them on TV or the movies, read about them in books and magazines, but they appear so spectacular in full living color.

You marvel at works of art displayed in the Smithsonian, the Metropolitan Museum, the Getty, and so many other places in this vast country. You can’t believe the limitless number of shopping malls, restaurants, resorts, wonderful places to see and experience.

If you are a typical Filipino, you can travel back and forth, from one end of the United States to the other, without staying in a single hotel. There is always family -- a relative, or a friend of a relative, or a friend of a friend -- in every state and corner of the country, from Pearl City, Hawai’i to Long Island, New York, from Stockton, California to Tampa Bay, Florida.

You develop a circle of kababayans, then Filipino-American friends at work or at church. You widen that circle to Asian-Americans, and other ethnic Americans, and to Americans who can trace their roots to the Mayflower.

You have Italian, Polish, and German friends, who trace their roots in America to three or four generations when their grandparents or great grandparents left Europe to seek a better life in the new land. You have friends from Mexico, Vietnam, and India who trace their American origins to one generation. And you have Native American friends who can trace their roots all the way to Dancing with Wolves or Big Feather.

At first, you speak to your children in your native tongue. They answer back in English. Soon you are conversing in English at the dinner table. Later you don’t realize if you are speaking in Filipino or in English.

You get involved in your church and your community. You vote for the local mayor and for the state governor. You contribute to the Presidential campaign. Before you know it, you have become Americanized.

You never think of yourself as American – despite the fact that you rent or own a house in America, work in America, have kids that act and speak like Americans. You think you are a Filipino, staying in America for an extended sojourn, but longing to return and eventually retire in the Philippines.

Yet, you go home to visit your beloved homeland, and you notice that the customs officials no longer think of you as native. You have become a Balik-bayan. A visitor in the old country.

No, you are not really an American (at least you don’t feel like it, American citizenship and passport notwithstanding), but you are no longer a Filipino either, in that you don’t reside in the Philippines, you don’t earn your livelihood there, you don’t send your children to school there, you don’t attend Sunday Mass there, you don’t vote there, you don’t contribute to the economy there.

You have become this strange creature – a man or woman without a country.

You read the LA Times and the Manila Bulletin. You watch American Idol and TFC. You shop at Albertson's and Seafood City. And if you are like my friend, you eat anchovies in pizza with rice. They might as well drop you in the middle of the Pacific Ocean!

I remember talking about this with a Filipino activist back in the late 70’s, prior to EDSA and People Power. At that time, he was frantically working with other Filipino expatriates to transport firearms to support the rebels against the Marcos dictatorship.

If the impending revolution succeeded, I asked him, would he return to the Philippines? He thought about it for a while. He was married to a Filipina. He had three kids, one of whom was studying at Harvard. He had a beautiful house in California. He had a job with the state government.

Would you go back to the Philippines? I asked. He said he was not sure; he was “straddling the fence”.

I’ve also had discussions with Filipino doctors who went back to the Philippines to practice there. Some stayed, some returned back to the United States.

Straddling the fence. That bothered me. This see-sawing back and forth. This split between residing in America and wishing to live in the Philippines.

Until I came across Carlos Bulosan’s “America is in the Heart”. Until I read Fr. Thomas Green’s books and the concept of "the third culture".

Welcome Home

The Embassy clerk slid our brown passports -- imprinted with the gilded seal of the Republic -- across the counter. He shook his head: “Sorry, I cannot give you visas. Why?... because you are Filipinos, and you have the worst passport in the world!”

August 1988. It was our first trip to Europe. We were beyond excited. My wife Lucie and I had immigrated to the United States in 1976, two years after graduating from medical school, two months after our wedding in Baguio. Actually, Lucie could not travel with me to New York until Thanksgiving, five months later. The U.S. Embassy in Manila had declined to grant her a dependent visa on the basis that she was a physician. But that is another story.

For years, we pursued postgraduate training on paper-thin ground – me with a J-1 student visa; Lucie with an H working visa. After a series of extensions, petitions, and queuing in line at the immigration office in Manhattan -- at 4 or 5 AM in the bitter cold of midwinter -- just to get a number to secure an interview, we had gotten used to the idea of being inconsequential droplets in the rising wave of the Filipino Diaspora.

I recall driving to Manhattan from Long Island before daybreak, waiting for hours in zero degree weather outside the immigration building, intermittently rubbing my hands together and blowing warm air into them to prevent frostbite. Finally, at seven thirty the line would move. Like shackled prisoners, we shuffled forward. However, when we reached the door, the security officer would hold up a hand to say: “That’s it, folks. That’s all the applications we can handle. We will be open at eight tomorrow. Better luck next time. Have a nice day!”

After years of such tribulations, Lucie and I received our “green cards”, which were not green but white. Soon thereafter, we would be eligible to apply for US citizenship. Yet we postponed our application, wanting to hold on to Filipino citizenship as long as possible, treasuring the last official document that linked us to the motherland.

Thereafter, the opportunity came to visit Europe; to visit the Marian shrines of Lourdes and Fatima; to visit Rome, the seat of Christendom and the Holy Land, where Jesus Christ had walked this earth. It was a dream come true. Most countries in our itinerary did not require visas for US citizens. But, being United States “resident aliens” bearing Philippine passports, we were directed by the travel agency to secure visas from the various embassies and consulates in Los Angeles.

Each foreign office had different rules and protocol. Some issued visas in a day or two. Other diplomatic offices directed us to leave our passports and related documents with them for a week for the required processing. Thus, it took several early morning trips to Los Angeles from San Diego to obtain visas from the Portuguese, Spanish, French, and other embassies. In the end, we got everything done except for the Italian visa which the embassy recommended we obtain upon our arrival in Europe.

Easier said than done. When we arrived in Lisbon, the Italian embassy there balked. The embassy official said the proper procedure was for us to return to the United States and apply for visas in Los Angeles. He understood that we had just gotten off the plane after an eleven-hour transatlantic flight. However, rules were rules. The correct procedure was to catch a flight back to Los Angeles, present our papers at the Italian embassy there, get our visas, and then rejoin our group in Europe.

That was the only solution, he said. The basic problem was we were Filipinos. “Simply put”, he explained, “you have the worst passport in the world! Filipinos visit Rome and they never leave!”

We were just touring Europe and the Vatican Museum would surely be a treat but we had no plans to abandon the United States, we assured him. No, the embassy clerk did not think that was a good enough guarantee to allow us to enter Italy. I asked to see the Ambassador. The stubborn clerked refused. We stood our ground. Finally, at the end of a very long day, we got our passports stamped with the necessary visa.

The travails of traveling to Europe recurred upon returning to the United States. Customs and immigration officials in New York wanted to know how long we had been away, which countries we had visited. Did we purchase anything contraband?

It was the same story after every trip back from the Philippines. Were we bringing in forbidden delicacies? Did we stack balut in our bags? Were we smuggling chorizo, adobo, dried fish?

A wonderful Philippine vacation inevitably ended up in grueling interrogations at the port of entry, triggering delays at customs, and rushing for connecting flights. Being tagged an unwanted if tolerated segment of American society was downright humiliating.

What did the late mayor Tom Bradley say at a Filipino convention? “If Filipino nurses and doctors in California decided not to get out of bed in the morning, the entire California hospital system would collapse”. We faithfully got out of bed each morning. Yet, society took our substantial contributions for granted.

International travel being in our future plans, we finally applied for US citizenship. We lined up at the federal building in San Diego to take the test. The official seemed surprised that I knew grass was green, the sky blue, and that I could spell and make a complete sentence. He was also surprised that the amendments to the Bill of Rights, and other stuff Americana, were not alien to me.

The day of our swearing in as new citizens came. We pledged allegiance to the US flag and everything it stood for. It was a happy day but I also felt like I had abandoned the country of my birth.

My father assured me I was still a Filipino; nothing essential had changed. Years later I found comfort in what Fr. Thomas Green, a Jesuit teacher in Ateneo, wrote about himself. After 30 years in Manila, he no longer felt like a New Yorker. But neither could he claim to be Filipino. For better or worse, he had become part of a third culture – half Filipino, half American.

The next European trip was a breeze. We had exchanged our brown Philippine passports with blue US. We were not peppered with questions at ports of entry. Nobody bothered to stop us in Geneva, Frankfurt or Cairo. As American pilgrims, we passed unhindered through Rome and Jerusalem.

After a long intercontinental flight, we arrived at customs and immigration in New York. Weary and tired, I braced myself for another long interview. Would we have time to catch the connecting flight to San Diego?

The customs official scanned our blue passports. I was prepared with rehearsed answers. Instead of inquiring how long we had been away or if we had adobo hidden in our suitcases, the official asked: Did you have a nice trip? We said yes.

“Welcome home,” he smiled.