Si Ute, Ang Matatakuting Bata

Kuwentong Pambata Ni Jon E. Royeca

(Nalathala sa Liwayway, Nobyembre 19, 2001)

— Nagsalaysay si Dr. Jose Rizal sa kanyang mga pamangkin ng isang kuwento tungkol sa isang matatakutin at nangangamoy na batang lalaki —

NAGTIPON-TIPON ang mga bata sa asutea sa itaas dahil magkukuwento na naman ang kanilang Tiyo Jose nang hapong iyon. Nais nilang makarinig ng isa na namang kuwento mula sa kanya. Nitong Agosto 1887, kababalik pa lamang niya sa Pilipinas mula sa Europa. Natapos na niya ang mga pag-aaral doon, at isa na siyang manggagamot ngayon.

“Gusto ko ang mga kuwento ni Tiyo Jose,” sabi ni Emilio sa mga kapatid niyang sina Angelica, Leoncio, at Antonio, at mga pinsang sina Delfina, Concepcion, Alfredo, Adela, Aristeo, at Cesar.

“Ako rin,” sang-ayon ni Delfina. “Nang huli niya tayong kuwentuhan, tungkol iyon sa isang nakatatakot na tikbalang na nanghahablot ng mga batang naglilibot sa gabi.”

“Oo!” natatakot na sabi ni Angelica.

Lumabas ang lola nilang si Doña Teodora sa pintuang patungo ng asutea na may dalang mga lalagyan na may sabaw ng buko, nilutong saba, at ginatan. Inaalalayan siya ng isang katulong.

“Magmeryenda muna kayo mga bata,” sabi nito na ikinatuwa nila.

“Salamat po, lola,” sagot nila.

“Ayaw ng lolo ninyo ng ingay dito sa bahay kaya magpapakabait kayo,” sabi ni Doña Teodora.

“Opo, lola,” sumagot silang lahat. “Nagpipirmi po lamang kami.”

Pumasok si Jose sa asutea. “Magandang hapon!” bati niya sa lahat.

“Tiyo Jose!” sigaw ng mga bata na nangagtakbuhan patungo sa kanya.

“Siya, mga bata,” sabi ni Doña Teodora. “Maupo’t makinig na kayo sa inyong Tiyo Jose.” Umalis na ito at ang katulong.

Kanya-kanyang upo ang bawat isa. Habang nginunguya ang meryenda nila, nakinig na sila sa kanilang Tiyo Jose. Umupo si Jose sa harapan nila. Tumingin muna siya sa kanilang halamanan, na hitik sa mga nagbubungang puno, tanim, bulaklak, ibon, at hayop.

“Ang kuwentong ito ay tungkol sa isang maliit na batang lalaki na nagngangalang Uté,” sinimulan na ni Jose ang kuwento. “Isang hapunan, ayaw niyang kumain, kaya’t sinabi sa kanya ng kanyang yaya na kung hindi siya kakain, lalantad nang biglaan ang isang nakatatakot na aswang sa may mesa at hahampasin iyon, o isang nuno sa punso ang biglang lalabas mula sa tinitirhan nito at kukunin siya.”

Ipinagpatuloy ni Jose na nang dahil sa mga kuwentong iyon, natakot na si Uté na kumain sa asutea, sa ilalim ng sinag ng buwan, lalo na kung umiihip ang hangin at nagsasayawan ang mga puno. Naging mapamahiin na rin siya—o iyong naniniwala sa mga bagay na nakatatakot ngunit katha-katha lamang.

Nang marinig niya sa isa nilang kapitbahay, na isang huklubang matandang babae, na masamang maligo kung Martes at Biyernes dahil iyon daw ang mga araw kung kailan naliligo ang mga maligno, hindi na nga siya naliligo sa mga ganitong araw. Idinagdag pa ng matandang bungal na iyon na kung palaging naliligo ang isang tao kung Martes at Biyernes, tiyak na magiging isa na rin siyang kinatatakutang maligno.

Narinig din niya na kung namumula ang mga bulaklak ng puno ng dapdap, gagala ang mga dambuhalang talangka sa buong bayan at sisirain ang mga bahay. Nalaman din niya na kung nangingitim at nanlalaki ang mga mata ng pusa, aahon mula sa mga dagat ang mga sirena at siokoy upang manguha ng mga bata at dalhin sa kaharian nila sa kailaliman ng karagatan. Nakarinig din siya ng mga kuwento na kung umaambon kahit maaraw naman, naglalabasan daw ang mga maligno, aswang, kapre, tikbalang, at nuno upang maligo sa “maaraw na ulan.”

Nang dahil sa lahat ng mga kuwentong iyon, naging matatakuting bata na si Uté. Ayaw na niyang lumabas ng kanilang bahay. Paano nga naman kung may mga sirena at siokoy na naroroon at kunin siya? O mga dambuhalang talangka at durugin siya? Nangangamoy siya kung Martes at Biyernes dahil ayaw na niyang maligo sa mga araw na ito dahil iyon nga raw ang mga araw na naliligo ang mga maligno. Ayaw niyang maging maligno.

“Uté, tinatawag ka ng mga pinsan at kaibigan mo sa labas,” banggit ng kanyang nanay isang hapon.

“Nanay, hindi po ba ninyo nakikita na umaambon?” wika ni Uté sa may bintana.

Tumingin sa labas ang kanyang nanay. May kaunting ambon at maaraw. “Ngayon?”

“Ang mga maligno, aswang, kapre, tikbalang, at nuno po!” nahihintakutang sabi ni Uté. “Nangaglabasan na po sila at naglalaro na ngayon sa ‘maaraw na ulan’!”

Natawa sa kanya ang kanyang nanay. “Hindi totoo iyan, Uté, kuwento lamang iyan.”

Hindi pinansin ni Uté ang sinabi. “Tingnan po ninyo, nangingitim at nanlalaki ang mga mata ng aking pusa! Baka umahon na ang mga sirena at siokoy! At ang mga puno ng dapdap,” itinuro ni Uté ang mga punong iyon sa liwasan, “may mga pulang bulaklak na po ngayon. Paano na po ang mga dambuhalang talangka?”

“Uté, namumutla ka na kasi hindi ka na lumalabas ng bahay. Huwag mo ngang paniwalaan ang mga kuwentong yaon. Ngayon, gusto kong lumabas ka at makisali sa mga pinsan at kaibigan mo. Hindi mo ba sila nakikita? Tuwang-tuwa sila’t naglalaro sa ambon!”

“Ngunit, nanay—”

“Yao!” itinulak siya.

“Ngunit, nanay—”

“Yao! Maligo ka sa ambon. Sabagay, Biyernes naman ngayon!”

Naitulak palabas ng bahay si Uté. Ipininid ng kanyang nanay ang pinto. Dahan-dahang naglakad si Uté papunta sa kanyang mga pinsan at kaibigan. Tumingala siya sa langit. Kaaya-aya ang mga patak ng ulan sa pisngi at balat; malamig at sariwa ang mga iyon.

Natuwa ang mga pinsan at kaibigan niya na makalaro siyang muli. Nakalimutan na ni Uté ang tungkol sa mga maligno, aswang, tikbalang, kapre, at nuno. Masayang maligo sa ambon. Ayaw na niyang maniwala sa mga dambuhalang talangka. At magaganda naman ang mga puno ng dapdap kung namumula ang mga bulaklak ng mga ito. Tungkol naman sa mga sirena at siokoy, natawa na lamang siya sa mga ito.

“Magmula noon,” tinatapos na ni Jose ang kuwento, “naliligo na siyang palagi araw-araw at hindi na nangangamoy. Tapos.”

Nagtawanan ang mga bata.

“Nakatatawa po iyon, Tiyo Jose,” sabi ni Angelica. “Hindi po naliligo kung Martes at Biyernes, naka!”

Sumali sa kanila si Doña Teodora. “Nakikinig ako sa kuwento sa may pintuan. Mga bata, kilala ba ninyo kung sino ang maliit na batang iyon na nagngangalang Uté?”

Umiling ang mga bata.

“Aba ay sino pa kundi ang inyong Tiyo Jose!” malakas na sagot ni Doña Teodora.

Gulat na gulat na nagbulanghitan ang mga bata. “Ikaw pala iyon! Ikaw pala iyon!’ sabi nilang nangagtatawanan at itinuturo ang kanilang Tiyo Jose. ●

The Legend of the Balangiga Church Bells

A Short Story for Children By Jon E. Royeca

(Published in the Junior Inquirer, May 17, 2003)

FIVE boys were seated in a circle in the woods of Balangiga. It was past eleven of the evening already. There was a bright moon above like in previous nights when the moon beautified the heavens even though it was September, one of the typhoon months. The winds coming from the Leyte Gulf made them quiver, but they were not as cold as during those dark nights with severe typhoons.

Like what they had agreed this afternoon, the boys gathered here to prove one thing—if the bells in their parish church really turned into gold at midnight or not.

That was an ancient legend of their town: the church bells would transform from ordinary solid bronzes into shining and very beautiful objects. They would gleam for several minutes and dazzle anyone who saw them until they returned to their original state.

However, the bells would only turn into gold at midnight if they were mounted on the belfry. If taken and placed elsewhere, they would remain bronzes.

“It is said that the bells really become gold,” Pancho convinced them. He had already told them about the legend. “Believe me. Everyone here knows it,” he continued. “I just wonder why you haven’t heard about it before.”

“We’ve also heard about it,” Julio defended. “You just came ahead of us in telling it.”

“I still don’t believe,” Benito countered. “I’ll only believe when I see it.”

“All right, this midnight, we will go up the belfry to prove if it’s true or not,” Pancho finished it off.

They got up. Slipping over to the church, they were a bit anxious because the American soldiers in the barracks near the municipal hall were always on alert, waiting for the Filipino soldiers who might attack and reclaim the town.

The Americans had already captured Balangiga. Since they conquered the town a few months ago, they had been maltreating its residents. One afternoon, some soldiers dragged an old woman out into the street because she could not sell them coconut wines.

Other American soldiers bullied farmers only because they wanted some fun. Then they fired their guns at the feet of those poor peasants to scare them off like rats. They also kicked or tripped boys and young men who went by the stores or street corners where they were dawdling the hours away.

The boys knew that if they were mistaken for Filipino revolutionary soldiers, the Americans would surely shoot them. It was still the Filipino-American War; thus, no one was assured that he was safe.

“How can we know it’s midnight already?” asked Pedro, the smallest in the group.

“Haven’t you heard yet of the bell at the municipal hall clanged every midnight?” Crisanto snapped irritably.

“Quiet,” Pancho said. “If we are noisy when we go up the belfry stairs, we would awaken the head sexton,” he reminded them.

Everyone shushed himself. They huddled together behind the trees in front of the church.

“The head sexton is there?” Pedro became alarmed and trembled.

“Yes,” Pancho answered. “He sleeps in a room near the belfry.”

“They say he beats up boys whom he catches climbing the belfry,” Pedro added.

“So be quiet if you don’t want us to get caught,” Pancho explained.

“I won’t go,” Pedro complained, trembling more.

They entered one of the church’s doors. Pedro kept hesitating. His friends pushed him to make him go with them.

The church was not totally dark inside. The altar, the chairs in the nave, and the saints’ wooden images could easily be seen. They were using as light the moonlit that pierced through the glass windows.

Though they were that careful, Pedro touched one big metal candleholder set by the belfry wall and knocked it into the floor.

The sound it made echoed all through the church. Next to it was that they heard a shout from one of the doors near the belfry.

“Who’s there?” a harsh voice boomed. It was the sullen head sexton, rushing from his room with a huge torch.

The boys, who had begun to mount the belfry stairs, could not contain themselves. They scrambled back to the door where they entered, fleeing for their lives.

“Who’s there?” the head sexton was shouting harsher. “If I catch you, savages!”

The boys managed to escape. They kept running until they were back in the woods. Thankfully, the American soldiers in the barracks did not notice them while they dashed by.

“If you were only careful,” Julio castigated Pedro who was about to weep now.

“Tomorrow night, let’s try it again,” Pancho told them, patting the shoulder of the humiliated Pedro, trying to cheer him up.

“Yes,” Benito agreed. “We were almost there.”

“Tomorrow again, is it clear?” Pancho wanted to make it sure.

“Yes!” everyone exclaimed, except Pedro.

“Pedro?” Pancho looked at him straight in the eye.

Pedro nodded and let a mild yes. Tomorrow, at midnight, they hoped they would finally prove the legend of the Balangiga Church bells.

BUT they would not be able to do that because the following day, Saturday, September 28, 1901, fighting broke out in the town. The Filipino soldiers attacked the Americans to free Balangiga from them.

The merciless American soldiers ravaged Balangiga. They shot men, women, and children to death. They spared no one.

Balangiga was only one of the towns on the island of Samar that the Americans attacked and burned down. Samar was turned into “a howling wilderness” because killing its people became an ordinary American play.

After they plundered that town and shot nearly all of its residents, the American soldiers took the Balangiga Church bells as souvenirs of their butcheries there. They brought them to their country.

Pancho and his friends were able to flee with their families from the Americans. They survived the slaughter, but they would no longer be able to know whether the ancient legend of the Balangiga Church bells was true or not.●

Farewell, Uncle Jose

A Short Story for Children By Jon E. Royeca

(Published in the Junior Inquirer, December 29, 2001)

“UNCLE Jose, why did you come back?” Leoncio asked. “I wish you were already in Spain. Mother said it was better if you were there.”

Jose patted Leoncio, stroking his hair lightly. “I did not come back. I was sent back.”

“By whom Uncle Jose?” Aristeo butted in.

“By the Spaniards,” Jose answered. He stood up to unpack the three bags that his nephews brought with them. “Is this the stove I’ve asked Señora Sisa to send here?”

“Yes, Uncle,” Leoncio said. “Mother said the Spaniards have imprisoned you here in Fort … Fort―”

“It’s Fort Santiago, cousin!” Aristeo finished it for him.

“Why, Uncle? I don’t understand,” Leoncio said, looking around that dungeon-like prison cell. It looked cavernous. Its walls and pillars were thick and heavy.

Jose smiled at the two. He put down the stove on the table, beside his papers. “How old are you two now?”

“I’m thirteen,” Aristeo proudly said. “I’m already in the secondary course at the Ateneo.”

Leoncio counted his fingers before shouting, “I’m eleven years old! I also study at the Ateneo.”

“Good, very good,” Jose said, feeling proud of his nephews. “Like what I always tell you, study well. It is your most potent weapon as you go on with your lives, as you live with your fellow men, and as you aim for what you want to make of yourselves.”

Aristeo smiled. He knew that their Uncle Jose always spoke seriously when it came to their studies. He wanted them to be well educated so that they would be good if not better citizens in thoughts, hearts, and deeds. He always reminded them to behave like gentlemen.

“You studied in Ateneo, didn’t you, Uncle?” Aristeo asked.

“Yes, I did,” Jose said. He fixed the alcohol stove, testing if it still worked. He thought of hiding there the small piece of paper where he would write his last poem. He would hide it that way so that when his sister Trinidad brought that stove out after visiting him, the Spanish guards would not see and confiscate the poem.

“Mother had told us that you received honors and prizes,” Leoncio added. “She said you were a very intelligent student.”

“Maybe,” Jose shrugged.

“So why would they imprison you here?” Aristeo argued. “You’re a doctor, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be in hospitals curing the sick.”

“How long will you be here, Uncle?” Leoncio asked.

Jose shrugged again. Since he arrived in Manila from Spain on November 3, 1896, he had been incarcerated in that prison cell in Fort Santiago, which was located on the northern tip of the walled district of Intramuros. The cold month of December would be over now, but he still remained a prisoner.

Aristeo sat down on a chair, beside Jose. He meekly looked up to him. “I heard father saying we might not be able to see you again. Why, Uncle?”

Leoncio also sat down on the other side of Jose. He was not saying anything but was about to cry. He had also heard everyone in their house in Trozo saying that their Uncle Jose might no longer be with them forever.

Jose calmed the two, smiling at them. “Boys, sometimes we don’t like what is happening to us. There are times when we’re proud of what’s going on around us. … When I die, I would rest, but I know I would die fighting for the sake of our country and our fellow Filipinos.”

Aristeo and Leoncio were close to tears. Their Uncle Jose was a doctor, writer, and a very kind uncle. Why would somebody hurt him? They could not really understand why.

“Why were you jailed, Uncle?” Aristeo again asked.

“It’s quite a long story,” Jose said. “I wanted our countrymen to be free from ignorance, injustices, and abuses committed against them by our Spanish rulers. But they, the Spaniards, did not like it. I only desired that our countrymen embrace the fruits of liberty, education, labor, and dignity. But again the Spaniards did not like what I desired.”

Jose stood up. “Come on, you two. The visiting hour is over. The guard will soon come in. Who would fetch you here?”

“Aling Iday, our servant,” Aristeo said. “She’s in the corridor.”

“Leoncio, kindly tell your mother,” Jose said deeply, “that I am thanking her for all the help that she has given me, for everything.”

Leoncio nodded. His mother, Señora Sisa, was one of Jose’s elder sisters.

“Aristeo, kindly tell Señor Silvestre,” Jose’s voice was firm, “that I am also thanking him for all the help.”

Aristeo nodded. Señor Silvestre was his father and one of Jose’s brothers-in-law.

“Grandma and Aunt Trining will be coming here also to visit you,” Leoncio told him. “Aunt Josephine said she’d come sooner.”

“How’s mother, your Grandma?” Jose asked. “And Josephine?” Josephine was his beloved wife.

“Grandma is always worried,” Leoncio answered. “And Aunt Josephine, too. I saw her crying one night. She misses you. Both Grandma and Aunt Josephine are in our house.”

Jose wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. “All right, go now. Remember what I always tell you. Study, study, and study. Work, work, and work. And don’t forget that you are studying and will be working for your country and fellow Filipinos.”

Aristeo and Leoncio both nodded. They cried while they embraced their beloved Uncle Jose, thinking that it would be the last time that they were seeing him.

“Goodbye, Uncle Jose,” the two boys said as they walked down the silent corridor, waving at him. “We’re leaving now, Uncle Jose, farewell!”

“Goodbye boys,” Jose waved back at them. “Farewell!”

SOME days later, on the morning of Wednesday, December 30, 1896, Jose was executed by the Spaniards through a firing squad in the Bagumbayan Field, a park outside Intramuros. He was immediately buried at the nearby Paco Cemetery.

Aristeo and Leoncio cried silently when they heard the news of their Uncle Jose’s death. Everyone in their family was in mourning.

Aristeo and Leoncio did not forget what their Uncle Jose advised them. They really studied well. They became physicians like their beloved uncle, Dr. Jose Rizal. ●

Mali-maling Ingles: Not only in the Philipines

Sa pagsasahimpapawid ng isang nangungunang programang pambalitaan sa telebisyon kahapon, Biyernes, ika-28 ng Abril, may isang ulat tungkol sa mga nakatatawa at nakadidismayang mali-maling Ingles sa iba't ibang lugar sa ating bansa. Ang karamihan sa mga pagkakamaling iyon ay matatagpuan sa mga patalastas ng mga produkto at serbisyo. Subalit ang nakalulungkot sa naturang ulat ay ang kongklusyon ng reporter:

 

"Mali-maling Ingles ... ano pa nga ba kundi only in the Philippines!"

 

Nakalulungkot ang kongklusyong iyon, dahil ang totoo ay hindi lámang sa Pilipinas matatagpuan ang mga mali-maling Ingles. Tunghayan natin ang ilang halimbawa.

 

Sa Gran Britanya (ang pinagmulan ng Ingles):

 

"English has a legal or official status or heavy influence in 115 countries. Language Today lists it as the most influential language in the world. But in its birthplace, the home of some of its greatest orators, Britain's last great institution is vanishing. An entire segment of British society is unable to communicate effectively.

 

"University professors are finding that many of their students cannot communicate effectively at all. 'Spelling and punctuation is only part of the problem,' said Prof. Tony Marcel. 'Their vocabulary is poor and mistaken; they have little idea of syntax, cannot punctuate, and seem to have no idea of what constitutes a sentence.'

 

"The Telegraph reports that 'thousands of children leave school too innumerate and illiterate to hold down a job.' Illiteracy equals unemployment."

 

—Richard Palmer, "The Incomprehensible Generation," The Philadelphia Trumpet (Edmond, Oklahoma), April 2009, p. 15.

 

Sa Estados Unidos:

 

"I hear ... many hirers and employers complain about constantly finding résumés that have multiple grammatical, spelling or various other language usage errors. In fact, in a survey I took a few years ago, scores of hirers, HR managers, employers and recruiters unanimously proclaimed that—even with automatic spell-check embedded in our word processors—this was still the most common problem they had with résumés."

 

—Jesse Frederick, "Does Your Résumé Demand Attention?" The Philadelphia Trumpet (Edmond, Oklahoma), February 2012, p. 15.

 

Sa Tsina:

 

Nang idaos sa Beijing, Tsina, ang Palarong Olimpiko noong Agosto 2008, naging isang isyu ang Chinglish, o ang mali-maling pag-iingles ng mga Tsino. Gumawa ng mga hakbang ang pamahalaan ng Tsina upang hindi ito makapagdulot ng mga kalituhan sa mga dayuhan.

 

Bilang karagdagan sa mga mali-maling Ingles sa iba pang panig ng mundo, maaaring tunghayan ang Web site na ito: http://www.joe-ks.com/Engrish.htm.

 

Ang mga nagsasabi na sa Pilipinas lámang nangyayari ang mga mali-maling Ingles ay:

 

1. Mga sinungaling, dahil hindi naman ito totoo;

 

2. Makikitid ang isip, dahil sa dinami-rami ng bansa sa buong mundo, mahigit 200, ang Pilipinas lámang ang naiisip nilang may pagkakamali, at hindi na makalabas mula sa ganoong pagtanaw ang kanilang mga isip;

 

3. Mga iresponsable, dahil hindi naman nila iniisa-isa ang mahigit 200 iba pang bansa upang matiyak na sa Pilipinas lámang talaga ang mga kamaliang ito;

 

4. Matitigas ang mga ulo, dahil ipinababatid na nga sa kanila at sa gayon ay alam na nila na hindi lámang sa Pilipinas ang mga kamaliang ito, aba'y pilit pa ring ipinalulunok sa madla ang kasinungalingang ito;

 

5. Makakapal ang mga mukha, dahil sa harap-harapang pagsisinungaling at pagiging iresponsable;

 

6. At mga walang modo, dahil nilalabag nila ang pangunahing tungkulin ng pamamahayag: Ang ipaalam at ituro sa madla ang kung ano ang totoo at tama.

 

Ang ugaling ito na pagsasabi ng "only in the Philippines" bilang isang tugon sa mga maling bagay na nangyayari sa ating bansa ay isang malala nang sakit ng maraming peryodista, komentarista, at iba pang indibiduwal. Isang sakit na bunga ng kanilang pagiging mga sinungaling, makikitid ang isip, iresponsable, matitigas ang ulo, makakapal ang pagmumukha, at walang modo.

 

Ituwid na lamang natin ang mga mali-maling Ingles natin. At kung magkakamali pa rin, ituwid pa rin natin.

Mali-maling Ingles: Not only in the Philipines

Sa pagsasahimpapawid ng isang nangungunang programang pambalitaan sa telebisyon kahapon, Biyernes, ika-28 ng Abril, may isang ulat tungkol sa mga nakatatawa at nakadidismayang mali-maling Ingles sa iba't ibang lugar sa ating bansa. Ang karamihan sa mga pagkakamaling iyon ay matatagpuan sa mga patalastas ng mga produkto at serbisyo. Subalit ang nakalulungkot sa naturang ulat ay ang kongklusyon ng reporter:

"Mali-maling Ingles ... ano pa nga ba kundi only in the Philippines!"

Nakalulungkot ang kongklusyong iyon, dahil ang totoo ay hindi lámang sa Pilipinas matatagpuan ang mga mali-maling Ingles. Tunghayan natin ang ilang halimbawa.

Sa Gran Britanya (ang pinagmulan ng Ingles):

"English has a legal or official status or heavy influence in 115 countries. Language Today lists it as the most influential language in the world. But in its birthplace, the home of some of its greatest orators, Britain's last great institution is vanishing. An entire segment of British society is unable to communicate effectively.

"University professors are finding that many of their students cannot communicate effectively at all. 'Spelling and punctuation is only part of the problem,' said Prof. Tony Marcel. 'Their vocabulary is poor and mistaken; they have little idea of syntax, cannot punctuate, and seem to have no idea of what constitutes a sentence.'

"The Telegraph reports that 'thousands of children leave school too innumerate and illiterate to hold down a job.' Illiteracy equals unemployment."

—Richard Palmer, "The Incomprehensible Generation," The Philadelphia Trumpet (Edmond, Oklahoma), April 2009, p. 15.

Sa Estados Unidos:

"I hear ... many hirers and employers complain about constantly finding résumés that have multiple grammatical, spelling or various other language usage errors. In fact, in a survey I took a few years ago, scores of hirers, HR managers, employers and recruiters unanimously proclaimed that—even with automatic spell-check embedded in our word processors—this was still the most common problem they had with résumés."

—Jesse Frederick, "Does Your Résumé Demand Attention?" The Philadelphia Trumpet (Edmond, Oklahoma), February 2012, p. 15.

Sa Tsina:

Nang idaos sa Beijing, Tsina, ang Palarong Olimpiko noong Agosto 2008, naging isang isyu ang Chinglish, o ang mali-maling pag-iingles ng mga Tsino. Gumawa ng mga hakbang ang pamahalaan ng Tsina upang hindi ito makapagdulot ng mga kalituhan sa mga dayuhan. Tunghayan ang mga sumusunod na larawan:

Bilang karagdagan sa mga mali-maling Ingles sa iba pang panig ng mundo, maaaring tunghayan ang Web site na ito: http://www.joe-ks.com/Engrish.htm.

Ang mga nagsasabi na sa Pilipinas lámang nangyayari ang mga mali-maling Ingles ay:

1. Mga sinungaling, dahil hindi naman ito totoo;

2. Makikitid ang isip, dahil sa dinami-rami ng bansa sa buong mundo, mahigit 200, ang Pilipinas lámang ang naiisip nilang may pagkakamali, at hindi na makalabas mula sa ganoong pagtanaw ang kanilang mga isip;

3. Mga iresponsable, dahil hindi naman nila iniisa-isa ang mahigit 200 iba pang bansa upang matiyak na sa Pilipinas lámang talaga ang mga kamaliang ito;

4. Matitigas ang mga ulo, dahil ipinababatid na nga sa kanila at sa gayon ay alam na nila na hindi lámang sa Pilipinas ang mga kamaliang ito, aba'y pilit pa ring ipinalulunok sa madla ang kasinungalingang ito;

5. Makakapal ang mga mukha, dahil sa harap-harapang pagsisinungaling at pagiging iresponsable;

6. At mga walang modo, dahil nilalabag nila ang pangunahing tungkulin ng pamamahayag: Ang ipaalam at ituro sa madla ang kung ano ang totoo at tama.

Ang ugaling ito na pagsasabi ng "only in the Philippines" bilang isang tugon sa mga maling bagay na nangyayari sa ating bansa ay isang malala nang sakit ng maraming peryodista, komentarista, at iba pang indibiduwal. Isang sakit na bunga ng kanilang pagiging mga sinungaling, makikitid ang isip, iresponsable, matitigas ang ulo, makakapal ang pagmumukha, at walang modo.

Ituwid na lamang natin ang mga mali-maling Ingles natin. At kung magkakamali pa rin, ituwid pa rin natin.

Kung nag-iingles tayong mga Pilipino, dapat ba tayong mag-isip bilang mga Amerikano?

Para sa ilan, kapag ang takbo ng isip ng isang Pilipino ay sa wikang Filipino, dapat lámang siyang magsalita o magsulat sa wikang Filipino rin. Hindi siya dapat magsalita o magsulat sa Ingles. At kapag ang takbo ng isip niya ay nasa Ingles na, doon na siya may karapatang magsalita o magsulat sa Ingles.

 

Tama ba naman ang ganitong pananaw?

 

Mahigit apat na bilyong tao sa buong mundo ang hindi katutubong Inglesero. Pero kung mag-iingles na sila, dapat ba muna nilang baguhin ang kani-kanilang mga pag-iisip at dapat ay itulad ang mga iyon sa pag-iisip ng mga katutubong Ingleserong Britaniko, Irlandes, Amerikano, Canadiano, Australyano, at Nueva Zealandes?

 

Para sa akin, ang isang Pilipino o sinupamang hindi katutubong Inglesero ay hindi na kailangang mag-isip bilang katutubong Inglesero kung siya ay nag-iingles. Hangga't wasto ang gamit niya ng balarila, balangkas ng pangungusap, baybay, at mga bantas, sapat na sapat na iyon upang siya'y makapag-ingles. Kasi, kung pipilitin pa niyang matulad sa mga Amerikano at iba pang katutubong Inglesero, hinuhubaran na niya ang kanyang sarili ng kanyang identidad. Bakit naman niya kailangang gawin iyon kung maaari naman siyang makapag-ingles sa paraang likas sa kanya, tama siya, at nauunawaan siya?

 

At hindi talaga kailangang matulad ang mga hindi katutubong Inglesero sa mga Amerikano at iba pang katutubong Inglesero kapag nag-iingles na. Bakit? Kasi, maging ang mga katutubong Inglesero ay may mga pagkakaiba rin ang kani-kanilang mga Ingles. Tunghayan:

 

Amerikano - Britaniko

hood - bonnet

trunk - boot

truck - lorry

on the weekend - at the weekend

on a team - in a team

please write me soon - please write to me soon

Pinangkunan:

http://esl.about.com/od/toeflieltscambridge/a/dif_ambrit.htm

 

Hayan, kung silang mga katutubong Inglesero ay may mga pagkakaiba ang Ingles, likas lamang na iba-iba rin kung mag-ingles ang mga hindi katutubong Inglesero. Muli, walang problema sa ganito hangga't wasto at nauunawaan ang kani-kanilang Ingles.

 

Ano ang nangyari kay Renato?

Pillipinong Ingles: What happened to Renato?

Amerikanong Ingles: What has come over Renato?

 

Inirapan ni Miriam si Conchita.

Pilipinong Ingles: Miriam glared at Conchita.

Amerikanong Ingles: Miriam gloated over Conchita.

 

Pumasok si Mang Serafin sa isang kuweba at pagkatapos ng tatlong oras ay lumabas nang nakangiti at pahimas-himas pa ng tiyan.

Pilipinong Ingles: Mr. Serafin entered a cave and after three hours came out of it grinning and caressing his stomach.

Amerikanong Ingles: Mr. Serafin went into a cave and three hours later got out of it smiling and caressing his belly.

 

Ilang taon ka na?

Pilipinong Ingles: How old are you?

Amerikanong Ingles: So, you're 15, 16, what--?

 

Anong kapatid mayroon ka, lalaki o babae?

Pilipinong Ingles: What do you have for a sibling, a brother or a sister?

Amerikanong Ingles: Do you have brothers or sisters?

 

Marunong kang magsalita ng Ingles?

Pilipinong Ingles: Do you know how to speak English?

Amerikanong Ingles: Do you speak English?

Korupsiyon vs. korapsiyon

Sa pagbaybay ng mga hinihiram na salitang banyaga, isinaalang-alang ang dalawang di-nakasulat na pamantayang ito:

1. Kung ano ang madulas sa dila, at

2. Kung ano ang mainam sa pandinig.

Kaya, sa Filipino, ang Ingles na conscience at ang Espanyol na consciencia ay hindi konsiyensiya kundi konsensiya. Itong huli ang mas madaling bigkasin at mas mainam pakinggan. Nakapipilipit ng dila at nakapagpapaling ng ulo ang konsiyensiya. Dati, ipinagpipilitan ang konsiyensiya, subalit ang higit na tingganggap ng madla ay ang konsensiya.

Hindi tanggap: "Wala kang kakonse-konsiyensiya!"

Ang tanggap: "Wala kang kakonse-konsensiya!"

Naririto ang ilan pang halimbawa ng baybay ng mga hiram na salitang banyaga na siyang higit na niyakap ng publiko:

aplaya sa halip na playa.

hiyas sa halip na oyas (joyas).

kasilyas sa halip na kasiyas (casillas).

labi sa halip na labiya (labia).

pader sa halip na pared.

sundalo sa halip na suldado (soldado).

Maging ang ilan sa mga salitang katutubo na ginagawang kolokyal ay sumusunod din sa nabanggit na dalawang pamantayan. Narito ang ilang halimbawa:

Noong dekada 1960, nauso ang pagbaligtad ng mga salita. Ang father at mother ay ginawang erpat at ermat, ayon sa pagkakasunod.

Ang bahay ay ginawang hayba; subalit sa kalaunan, ito ay naging haybol, dahil mas bumabaon iyon sa dila at sa pandinig.

Ganoon din ang kotse. Sa una, sekot ito. Datapuwa, higit na nanaig ang tsekot sa kalaunan.

Nangyari rin ito sa hiya. Sa una, yahi lang muna ito. Ngunit higit na hiningi ng dila at tainga na ito ay maging dyahi.

Sa ngayon, ipinagpipilitan ang korupsiyon bilang ang wastong baybay ng hiram na salitang banyagang ito. Hinango ito mula sa Espanyol na corrupción, hindi mula sa Ingles na corruption. Para sa marami, hindi yata ito madulas sa dila at mainam sa tenga. Mas maluwag bigkasin at mas mataginting ang korapsiyon.

Alin kaya sa dalawa ang higit na mananaig at tatanggapin ng publiko sa kalaunan?