Before I begin, let me make a disclaimer. I am not, have never been and have never pretended to be a language expert. A noob? I am not ashamed to say that I am. A whiner? Definitely not one of my proudest traits, but I will own it. This is why I would like to talk about a disturbing development happening to our beloved Cebuano language — and yes, it is a language and not a dialect.
I consider myself fluent in Cebuano in the sense that I can carry out a normal conversation without having to think about it. You know what I mean? I also recognize nuances like geographical accents. Believe it or not, I can tell the difference between a Dalaguetnon accent and a Boljoanon accent — all while trying to keep a straight face.
Don't get me wrong. It is not my intention to disparage their distinct “sing-song” or melodic intonation. Far from it. But it can be jarring to the ears of someone who has grown up in the metro — although “jarring” may not be the right word, since it hardly shocks or disrupts. How shall I put it without getting beaten up the next time I find myself on the shores of Samboan or Oslob? The lilt is whimsical enough to bring a smile to your face while evoking a rural, much more relaxed existence of a bygone era.
Which reminds me. One time — and no, it wasn't at band camp — someone from Bug-ot, a mountain barangay in Argao, and someone from Malacorong, a neighboring mountain barangay, were poking fun at each other's accents. Isn't it ironic? Don't you think? To someone from the metro, they both sounded — how shall I put it without getting sawed in half with a chainsaw in Badian or Samboan — charmingly quaint.
But that's the extent of my fluency in Cebuano. I hate to admit it, but I can't carry out a scholarly discussion in the language, let alone write an essay, since Cebuano was not taught in schools during my time. Instead, we were forced to learn two foreign languages: Tagalog and English. I have no beef with English since it has been the lingua franca in global business, trade, diplomacy and culture since the end of the Second World War. But Tagalog? Trust me, if you live your whole life in Cebu, you only need Cebuano and, of course, English, to survive and even flourish. Unless you're a filmaholic. Which I am. Growing up with a Noranian yaya, who wouldn't be? I guess I was lucky to have watched such classics in high school as the original uncut version of “Scorpio Nights,” “Boatman” and “Isla.” Or a singaholic. Again, guilty. They say I sound like Martin Nievera after a 750ml bottle of Tanduay 5 Years, and Gary Valenciano after I wash it down with a couple of ice-cold Red Horse bottles.
Now you see, I don't have any bias against Tagalog. If you were born in the Tagalog region or in the National Capital Region (NCR) and grew up speaking Tagalog — not that you had a choice — then good for you. As they say — or do they? — what happens in the NCR should stay in the NCR. So why, all of a sudden, am I hearing members of local Gen Z adding “po” when they address their elders, authority figures, or strangers? Yes, “Po.” The marker of respect. In Tagalog. Not Cebuano.
I conducted some research — i.e., searched the internet — and found something interesting on Reddit: “The Cebuano (Bisaya) language does not use markers like ‘po’ or ‘opo’ because it has a distinct cultural and linguistic approach to showing respect that relies on relational titles, tone of voice and directness rather than a dedicated particle.” Wait, there's more. “While Tagalog, heavily influenced by its proximity to the Spanish colonial capital in Manila, developed a hierarchical, softer language structure requiring po, Cebuano culture developed a more straightforward, egalitarian and ‘bolder’ tone, often influenced by its history of independent coastal trading communities.” Well, I couldn't have said it better. But yes, there is a reason Cebuano is the way it is. To add a foreign marker at the end without knowing or understanding why the mother language uses it in the first place is a form of linguistic appropriation. Do these misinformed youth even know that “po” is a contraction of the old Tagalog word “poon,” which means lord or master?
