Philippines: Mother Tongue

[Harold Schiffman]

Mother Tongue

By Michael Tan
Pinoy Kasi
Philippine Daily Inquirer

MANILA, Philippines -- I learned, only two weeks ago, that there's an
International Mother Language Day (IMLD), celebrated on Feb. 21.
Initiated by UNESCO in 2000, IMLD commemorates an event back in 1952.
At that time people were still reeling from the partition of India and
Pakistan. The main language in Pakistan was Urdu but there were also
many people, in what was then East Pakistan and now Bangladesh, who
spoke Bangla. There was a demonstration on Feb. 21, 1952, in support
of the right to speak and use Bangla. The police fired on the crowd
and three people were killed, martyrs for a mother language. A mother
language is different from a national language. In the Philippines, we
have a national language called Filipino, which is supposed to draw
from different languages in the country but which is still largely
Tagalog-based. Tagalog is the mother language of many Filipinos,
mainly those living in Central and Southern Luzon.

But for many other Filipinos, the mother language is Cebuano (probably
outnumbering Tagalogs), Ilokano, Ilonggo and more than a hundred
others. Even the Tsinoy (Chinese-Filipino) can say that Filipino is
our national language, but Minnan (or Hokkien) is their mother tongue.
The idea of a mother language is purely cultural, a way of marking our
identity. A mother language can be powerful, which is why governments
sometimes try to suppress, even eradicate, the use of minority
languages. Often, this is done because of the mistaken notion that
national identity depends on having only one language throughout the
country. Today, we know that multilingualism can contribute to
nation-building. When people are allowed to nurture their mother
language, at home and in schools, they learn to appreciate not just
their own local culture but also that of the nation.

Compare a national TV or radio broadcast, in English or Tagalog-based
Filipino, with a regional or provincial station where the discussions
are in the local language and you'll find the latter is much more
animated, the analysis more in-depth. There's much more interaction,
with more nuances captured, and national issues become more real to
the local population. During the last two weeks, the Inquirer has
published several articles on another aspect of the use of mother
language, this time for education. There was the two-part article by
Diane and Greg Dekker of the Summer Institute of Linguistics, and
another article by UP linguistics professor Ricardo Nolasco, all
pushing for the use of the local language (sometimes called L1, or
first language) in schools, citing research to support the contention
that classroom instruction in an L1 makes it easier to learn other
languages (in the Philippine context, Filipino and English) as well as
science and mathematics.

Maranaw

All this is not new. Even in the past, without conducting elaborate
experimental research, educators noted how the use of a local or
mother language could facilitate learning. Let me share an account
from "The Lanao System of Teaching Illiterates, " written by Frank
Laubach and which appeared in "Tales of the American Teachers in the
Philippines, " edited by Geronima Pecson and Maria Racelis. The
Americans were recruiting teachers to handle public schools in Lanao
but found only a small percentage of the population was literate.
Those who could read and write were using Arabic and the Americans
realized that the local language, Maranaw, was only spoken, without
any written system. So they devised a writing system for Maranaw and
began to transcribe local songs, prose and poetry. There was certainly
no lack of local oral traditions waiting to be transformed into print.

Laubach noted that there were "at least 35 long epic poems that would
range from 20 to a hundred printed pages in length," "many prose
stories resembling those of the Arabian nights," "kisas," or stories
from ancient prophets, and thousands of lyric poems "about the
harvest, the rain, the clouds, the sunset, love, despair ...
everything in their lives." Using these printed texts of Maranaw folk
literature facilitated the literacy campaign, because people were
intrigued by the idea of being able to read their own literature. In
the first four months of 1931, when the Americans first launched their
program, they were able to teach 3,000 new individuals each month to
read and write. Eventually, the Americans gained as well, by
translating English materials on "health, government, history,
geography, business, morals and religion" as well as Philippine laws
into Maranaw.

We don't seem to have learned from that experience in Lanao. English
remains the preferred medium of instruction, using English textbooks,
and we like to imagine a time when, supposedly, Filipinos spoke proper
English. We forget fluent English was a function of class, of people
who could use English both in schools and at home, and with their
social circles. For the majority of Filipinos, English and, later,
Filipino was, and still is, distant. If Laubach returned to Lanao
today, he'd be shocked to find that literacy levels have plummeted
again, even as the schools struggle with new requirements to promote
English. Everywhere in the country, our textbooks, vital public
documents and, generally, books on science are often produced only in
English. Many Filipinos are deprived of access to important
information needed to participate in civil life.

Reading Laubach's account about the Maranaw also reminded me that our
preference for English and now, a skewing toward Tagalog-based
Filipino, has contributed to the stunting of regional languages and
cultures. Some years back, in one of my graduate classes, a student
noted how thrilled he was when he first saw Kapampangan printed
literature. Suddenly, the folk tales, the riddles, proverbs that he
heard as a child became more real, and more certain of being preserved
for future generations. He is lucky that there is printed Kapampangan
literature. For many of our other languages, we only have oral
traditions, many of which are in danger of dying out because no one is
passing them on.

At the University of the Philippines, the Department of Filipino sees
the importance of exposing students to all these languages, and their
literature, offering courses that deal with literature from all over
the country. Similarly, the Department of Linguistics is beginning to
offer classes in Cebuano. We need a national language, no doubt, but
the current policy is worrisome because it promotes English first,
Filipino second -- both at the expense of other mother languages. We
should allow Filipinos to nurture their own mother language and share
this with other Filipinos or even the world. As we begin to appreciate
the rhythms and cadences, the humor and the wisdom, in each of our
many languages, we just might be able to overcome our parochialism and
regionalism and build a nation strong in its multicultural
foundations.



http://kamaru.blogspot.com/2008/02/mother-tongue.html



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