by Fil-Am Observer Staff
Part of the diasporic narrative of the people
of the Philippines in the
United
States is the accounting of
programs that have served their various communities in exile.
Of landmark achievement, for instance, is the Operation Manong that paved the way for a respectful recognition of
the contributions of the many hardworking people of Philippine descent, such as
the Visayans and the Ilokanos.
The two groups have come to Hawaii to eke
out a life far better than they had in the homeland.
And they have found a better one over here, thanks to their industry and
perseverance, and their untold, at times unnamable,
sacrifices
It was a catchall phrase—this search for the good life as a reason for
leaving the familiar landmarks of the land of one’s
birth.
But this grand reason has the ability to capture the mixed motivations of
those who had come here more than one hundred years ago—and these mixed
motivations can still be encapsulated by that phrase.
But history was not always on the side of these people of the
Philippines.
The tragic histories of execution, and other forms of oppression, in the
fields and outside the fields, are now ingredients of the larger story of the
presence of the various peoples of the
Philippines in the
State of Hawaii.
But the accounts of their resistance and persistence are everywhere to
give instruction to the next generations of people of the
Philippines,
immigrants and local-born alike.
One of the institutions that have survived all through the years is the
Ilokano Language and Literature Program of the
University of
Hawaii at Manoa.
Established in 1972, it began to offer Ilokano
courses to children of immigrants who came to the university to further their
studies.
Many of
these students have now become professionals, and are now leaders of the
community in their own right.
The forty years of service to the students and the community—the forty
years of bearing witness to what language and culture resources can do to enrich
the larger community of Hawaii—are years of struggle and
surprise.
Tapped to lead in designing the Ilokano Program
that in later years was called the UH Manoa Ilokano, Philippine Drama and Film Program, was Professor
Precy Espiritu.
For more than thirty years until her retirement from teaching in 2006,
Professor Espiritu expanded the program until it
became a degree-granting program in 2002.
The fact that Ilokano is being taught with
academic rigor is something that the various universities in the
Philippines have
missed for the last forty years that the UH Ilokano
Program has consistently been offering Ilokano courses
each semester.
As a direct result of the institution of a national language, Ilokano has since been practically banned in the Philippine
basic education infrastructure.
In the name of unqualified nationalism, and in the name of the sacrosanct
national language, all Philippine languages—the mother languages of the children
who are going to the schools—have been practically banned.
Empirical studies document the prohibition, directly and tacitly, by the
fine-system being imposed upon students caught speaking a word in the Ilokano language, his very own
language.
The going rate is at five pesos per word, according to some educators who
are in the know.
The State of Hawaii, in 1972,
adopted a different tack to the whole story.
After years of denial and deprivation as a result of many factors,
including the cultural denigration of Ilokanos
themselves, the Ilokano language finally gained a
public space in the halls of academia as an academic and foreign language
course, one that could take its place side by side with the other major
languages of the world, including the majors languages of Asia, languages that
have strong connections to the economy, politics, and culture of
Hawaii.
The one-course program became two courses, and the two-course, one-year
program became two years, until it became a full-blown bachelor’s degree program
under the rubric of Philippine language and literature.
All through the years, students have come and gone—and those who passed
its portals went out to the world and brought with them a renewed appreciation
of what the Ilokano language can offer, of what the
Ilokano culture can share, and of what the university
program can do to students who are interested to reclaim their heritage, or
students who want to learn more about the language and culture of their parents.
Part, therefore, of the Filipino-American History Month Celebration is
the institution of the Ilokano language at the
university.
Prior to 1972, the Ilokano people had to wait
for seventy-four years before their language could take its own place in the
academic discourse of the university.
Coming in 1906, with the centennial of their coming to
Hawaii
celebrated in 2006, the absence of the language of the plantation workers in the
intellectual discourse of the state is something that begs explanation.
The children born of these plantation workers did not have access to the
intellectual resources of their ancestors.
Some did not even have access to the language of their parents, by reason
of the systemic denial by the educational institution—the schools—of the
children of these workers of their own heritage language, a repeat, or
duplication, of what was happening in the homeland.
The Tagalog Program of the University,
instituted in 1971 through the leadership of Dr. Teresita Ramos, antedated the Ilokano Program for a year.
It was also Professor Ramos, cognizant of the need for the intellectual
space for Ilokano discourse and practice, that made it
sure that the Ilokano Program would have a good start,
and hence, giving the free rein to Professor Espiritu
to develop the Ilokano Program and push for its growth
and development through all the years.
Dr. Josie Paz Clausen, along with other lecturers like Clem Montero,
have come in to help through the years.
Many students of the Ilokano Program speak
fondly of their own experiences as students of this
program.
Three of these students, Julius Soria, Abe
Flores, and Jeffrey Acido have joined the
instructional faculty.
Other
graduates of the program are either working as interpreters, youth development
workers, teachers of Ilokano language in Waipahu High
School and Farrington High School, both on Oahu, or government
workers.
In partnership with other civic and culture organizations, the UH Ilokano Program has been in the forefront in mother language
advocacy, in heritage language education, in cultural nationalism, and in
cultural pluralism and diversity.
In 2006, the Ilokano Program began the Nakem Conferences, a movement that aims to pursue the very
aims of diversity and the need to celebrate—and cerebrate—it.
Today, Nakem Conferences movement has grown,
and has spread all over the Philippines.
In the summer of 2012, it will hold its 7th International
Conference on “Pag-angkon: Our Right to Our Language,
Our Right to Education That Emancipates,” in
Tacloban
City,
Philippines.
More needs to be done, and one of them is to continue erasing totally the
acquired—even learned—cultural denigration of the Ilokanos, their hatred of their language and culture, a
hatred that makes them conveniently deny they are Ilokanos, a hatred that makes them bury any sign that they
have anything to do with the Ilokano language and
culture.
Even at the 105th year of the presence of the Ilokanos in Hawaii, we
continue to experience this denigration everyday.
For it is not easy becoming the doormat of
history.
It is not easy becoming the subject matter of an immigrant history that
does not even want to remember itself.
It is for this reason that during this Fililipino-American History Month—a commitment to memory and
to memory making, a commitment to resist forgetting—becomes urgent.
In May 2012, the UH Ilokano Language and
Literature Program will hit its 40th year.
In the years to come, another good 40 years would assure us of Hawaii’s
commitment to diversity and heritage, and another 40 years afterwards would make
the UH Ilokano Program a commitment for all time.
Six or
seven instructional faculty now run the university’s Ilokano Program at any given time.
These are
the new breed of leaders—and teachers—who inherited the wisdom and vision of the
first leaders who have since retired.
From a
faculty of one and a handful of students, the Ilokano
Program has grown and hopefully, it will continue to grow even as it assists,
and partners with, other llokano Program’s in schools
and colleges, in Hawaii, and
outside Hawaii.
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