Sounds of my silence
I have been traveling by myself for quite some time whether it's just to and from the office, or to conferences, countries. And I have lately resorted to eavesdropping. Before I didn’t care what was going on around me but now I cannot help it. This I do if I do not have my mp3 with me. I like these ‘keep it to yourself’ gadgets. If you crank it loud enough to a certain volume, it drowns out whatever noise there are around you – foreign language, foreign music, people on celphones, people chatting and lets you hear Rob Thomas crooning 3am to only you or get Green Day into your system at a level without worrying about the neighbors.
If you crank it up some more, there is a level when you feel like you’re the star of your own MTV. You start to feel your feet and then body moving to the rhythm of the music. You resist the urge to strike a pose as the song hits a melancholy note or nod or roll your head to a rhythm. There would be times when other people will star in your MTV. Like when you look at someone and the music playing works so well as a background with his or her movements that it seems like they are listening to the same music as you are. They strike that pose just at the right note. Sometimes on the BTS I picture the opposite. That all the passengers would start dancing to the beat except for the one and only person who can actually hear the music – me. I shut out the rest of the world with the earphones and everything else takes on a different level of experience.
Without the MP3, I have developed this tendency of listening in to people's conversation. Of course my looking local hides me and in a way, protects me in anonymity. And of course the only conversations I can eavesdrop in on are those that the locals do not understand – Tagalog and English - whether in the van, on the BTS, while walking along our condominium, wherever. One time, I eavesdropped on two foreigners – one sounded South Asian and the other was American (he said so) – on what they were doing in Thailand, where they have been and where else they wanted to go. The American wanted to go to India. And the one who sounded South Asian said he wanted to go to the part where the American was from.
At the Bangkok airport, I listened in on the woman behind me talking to her friend. And wished I hadn’t. All I heard were complaints. We were in line at the passport control and the line was slow.
‘Is it a Monday or something?’ the complainer said.
‘It’s Tuesday.’ Said the friend.
‘I didn’t know everyone traveled on a Tuesday.’
Then after a while, she said ‘Apparently nobody noticed that big trainee sign at the desk.’ There are two sides at the passport control line – left and right. The trainee sign was at the empty one. No one knows except maybe the one who put up the sign whether the trainee sign was for the empty seat or for the whole section that included the left where we were all cued up. Apparently someone just loves to complain and make judgments.
One almost cannot distinguish the difference between Southeast Asians even amongst us at times. Filipinos blend indistinguishably with Thais. Only when we open our mouths and speak – because we have a different accent in English and a different language - do we make the distinction.
In the elevator, a woman went in with two men and started speaking in English. I knew right away that she was Filipino. Her accent gave her away. I looked at her once or twice and had I not heard her speak, I would not have known that she was from my country. It's uncanny during Asian conferences. You can never know until you get to the solidarity night where people would be wearing their national attires.
In the shuttle van that we take to get us home from the BTS, I have listened to people comment on various topics. One time in the van, the conversation was in Tagalog. I listened to someone commenting to a friend how the voice singing a Thai song sounded like a Filipino singer. I did not make myself known to them. My anonymity somehow makes my eavesdropping less nosy, makes me less of a snoop. Then Kigao with his friendly ‘Kababayan!’ disposition of talking to fellow Filipinos whenever, wherever even just to say ‘Hi, I come from the same country,’ gave me away. It made me feel worse than a snoop.
Another time on the BTS, I overheard someone talking about another Filipino at work and their troubles. It sounded like there were lots of Filipinos where they work.
And in my eavesdropping, I realized that people whether speaking English or Tagalog, love to make judgments. It might be because of insecurity or ignorance. Sometimes we fear what we do not understand. It is easy to dismiss something we do not know. And it is easier to ridicule than to make an effort in learning the language or to try to understand. (And here I go also on my own assumptions and judgments.) Only when we understand do we start to respect.
There is also the arrogance of Filipinos. I have heard more than one Filipino working overseas ask: ‘Anong lahi?’ (What race?) like anything else other than Filipinos are no good. Then again, is it our aversion and trauma at being colonized the reason why we do not take well to anything foreign? And we are sometimes very critical – It’s how we say – ‘you know Filipinos, mapanlait.’ We have such flowery and wide vocabulary in Tagalog that the language itself blossoms – even if it is said in critique or for a worse term – daot or lait – this is something worse than criticism. These words are said with a negative tone, not meaning well and just plain negative adjectives. But when a friend of mine does it, she makes it not seem bad, but funny. But I digress. Maybe it is just with people who are not Americans or Europeans? Are we not succumbing to the prejudice of first world countries the ones we have heard of, and all the others whom we have not? Or do we not hear enough American or European bashing and the prejudice is only to other nationalities besides the first world? The whites?
My sister told me a story in Singapore where Filipinos were chatting on the metro rail. Two girls were giving commentaries on people’s looks. They said: ‘Tingnan mo yun, parang whatever, whatever.’ (Look at that person, s/he looks whatever whatever). They went on like this for a while. Then turned to someone and said ‘Ayun, mukhang unggoy’ (That one looks like a monkey). My sister couldn’t help but look at the ‘monkey’. He was hairy. Then the train stopped at one station. One of guys that boarded looked around and saw the hairy guy. He said ‘Pare, kumusta?’ (This is Tagalog for ‘Hey friend, how are you?’ Yes, he is a Filipino, to the chagrin of the two girls. And then to make matters worse, the hairy guy said: ‘Eto, ungguy-ungguyan.’ Which meant ‘Uh, like a monkey’ – (Pardon my poor translation, better translation suggestions welcome.) Yes, he heard what the two girls were yapping about him. Mortification. Disgrace. Shame. Let me vanish from the face of the earth! They vanished at the next stop. They got off.
Usually this arrogance is when there are two or more. Alone, we are not such arrogant people. Alone, there is no one to talk to or to say your criticisms to and there is no one to affirm it. One is forced to silence. I would like to think that my silence is my own choosing – I can opt to chat with them and let them know I understand them and possibly join in! We have that camaraderie in our culture, which explains Kigao’s disposition. But it’s more interesting to pretend one cannot understand. One discovers different personalities and different stories. Then I get to break my silence and tell the stories to the family when I get home.
If you crank it up some more, there is a level when you feel like you’re the star of your own MTV. You start to feel your feet and then body moving to the rhythm of the music. You resist the urge to strike a pose as the song hits a melancholy note or nod or roll your head to a rhythm. There would be times when other people will star in your MTV. Like when you look at someone and the music playing works so well as a background with his or her movements that it seems like they are listening to the same music as you are. They strike that pose just at the right note. Sometimes on the BTS I picture the opposite. That all the passengers would start dancing to the beat except for the one and only person who can actually hear the music – me. I shut out the rest of the world with the earphones and everything else takes on a different level of experience.
Without the MP3, I have developed this tendency of listening in to people's conversation. Of course my looking local hides me and in a way, protects me in anonymity. And of course the only conversations I can eavesdrop in on are those that the locals do not understand – Tagalog and English - whether in the van, on the BTS, while walking along our condominium, wherever. One time, I eavesdropped on two foreigners – one sounded South Asian and the other was American (he said so) – on what they were doing in Thailand, where they have been and where else they wanted to go. The American wanted to go to India. And the one who sounded South Asian said he wanted to go to the part where the American was from.
At the Bangkok airport, I listened in on the woman behind me talking to her friend. And wished I hadn’t. All I heard were complaints. We were in line at the passport control and the line was slow.
‘Is it a Monday or something?’ the complainer said.
‘It’s Tuesday.’ Said the friend.
‘I didn’t know everyone traveled on a Tuesday.’
Then after a while, she said ‘Apparently nobody noticed that big trainee sign at the desk.’ There are two sides at the passport control line – left and right. The trainee sign was at the empty one. No one knows except maybe the one who put up the sign whether the trainee sign was for the empty seat or for the whole section that included the left where we were all cued up. Apparently someone just loves to complain and make judgments.
One almost cannot distinguish the difference between Southeast Asians even amongst us at times. Filipinos blend indistinguishably with Thais. Only when we open our mouths and speak – because we have a different accent in English and a different language - do we make the distinction.
In the elevator, a woman went in with two men and started speaking in English. I knew right away that she was Filipino. Her accent gave her away. I looked at her once or twice and had I not heard her speak, I would not have known that she was from my country. It's uncanny during Asian conferences. You can never know until you get to the solidarity night where people would be wearing their national attires.
In the shuttle van that we take to get us home from the BTS, I have listened to people comment on various topics. One time in the van, the conversation was in Tagalog. I listened to someone commenting to a friend how the voice singing a Thai song sounded like a Filipino singer. I did not make myself known to them. My anonymity somehow makes my eavesdropping less nosy, makes me less of a snoop. Then Kigao with his friendly ‘Kababayan!’ disposition of talking to fellow Filipinos whenever, wherever even just to say ‘Hi, I come from the same country,’ gave me away. It made me feel worse than a snoop.
Another time on the BTS, I overheard someone talking about another Filipino at work and their troubles. It sounded like there were lots of Filipinos where they work.
And in my eavesdropping, I realized that people whether speaking English or Tagalog, love to make judgments. It might be because of insecurity or ignorance. Sometimes we fear what we do not understand. It is easy to dismiss something we do not know. And it is easier to ridicule than to make an effort in learning the language or to try to understand. (And here I go also on my own assumptions and judgments.) Only when we understand do we start to respect.
There is also the arrogance of Filipinos. I have heard more than one Filipino working overseas ask: ‘Anong lahi?’ (What race?) like anything else other than Filipinos are no good. Then again, is it our aversion and trauma at being colonized the reason why we do not take well to anything foreign? And we are sometimes very critical – It’s how we say – ‘you know Filipinos, mapanlait.’ We have such flowery and wide vocabulary in Tagalog that the language itself blossoms – even if it is said in critique or for a worse term – daot or lait – this is something worse than criticism. These words are said with a negative tone, not meaning well and just plain negative adjectives. But when a friend of mine does it, she makes it not seem bad, but funny. But I digress. Maybe it is just with people who are not Americans or Europeans? Are we not succumbing to the prejudice of first world countries the ones we have heard of, and all the others whom we have not? Or do we not hear enough American or European bashing and the prejudice is only to other nationalities besides the first world? The whites?
My sister told me a story in Singapore where Filipinos were chatting on the metro rail. Two girls were giving commentaries on people’s looks. They said: ‘Tingnan mo yun, parang whatever, whatever.’ (Look at that person, s/he looks whatever whatever). They went on like this for a while. Then turned to someone and said ‘Ayun, mukhang unggoy’ (That one looks like a monkey). My sister couldn’t help but look at the ‘monkey’. He was hairy. Then the train stopped at one station. One of guys that boarded looked around and saw the hairy guy. He said ‘Pare, kumusta?’ (This is Tagalog for ‘Hey friend, how are you?’ Yes, he is a Filipino, to the chagrin of the two girls. And then to make matters worse, the hairy guy said: ‘Eto, ungguy-ungguyan.’ Which meant ‘Uh, like a monkey’ – (Pardon my poor translation, better translation suggestions welcome.) Yes, he heard what the two girls were yapping about him. Mortification. Disgrace. Shame. Let me vanish from the face of the earth! They vanished at the next stop. They got off.
Usually this arrogance is when there are two or more. Alone, we are not such arrogant people. Alone, there is no one to talk to or to say your criticisms to and there is no one to affirm it. One is forced to silence. I would like to think that my silence is my own choosing – I can opt to chat with them and let them know I understand them and possibly join in! We have that camaraderie in our culture, which explains Kigao’s disposition. But it’s more interesting to pretend one cannot understand. One discovers different personalities and different stories. Then I get to break my silence and tell the stories to the family when I get home.
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