MY MANY TITLES IN THE PHILIPPINES

Ever since I came to the Philippines I have acquired a few titles.  In the beginning it was “Hey Joe”.   Everywhere I went, adults as well as youngsters were always yelling that epithet. I found that they had actually been taught that in elementary school.  The humorous thing was they yelled that to anyone who was Caucasian or Black.  It didn’t matter what country they came from, it was just that those “foreigners” were not Filipinos and thus identified with that catch-all phrase.  

When I returned here in 2010 and settled in Balamban, Cebu, the youth (and yes, the adults too) would still yell “Hey Joe.”  Let’s face it, what else would they say, which gave me an idea.  I was curious if the kids even bothered to remember one foreigner from the next and thus I devised a plan.  With the help of Diana (my housekeeper), she told me if they yelled out “Hey Joe!” I should reply with, “Dili ako si Joe.  Ako si George.” (No, my name is not Joe.  My name is George).  It was a steamy afternoon as I walked toward the town market when three boys called out, “Hey Joe!”  Well, I tried that phrase on the trio, and they all laughed and then yelled, “Hey George!”  We waved to each other as I continued along the busy roadway toward downtown.  

I had only done that a few times but suddenly all kinds of kids started calling me “George.”  I had seen other foreigners pass and some of the youth would say “Hey Joe,” to them while with others they would say nothing. For some unknown reason though, those children seemed to like me and whenever I would stroll by, they would all call out, “HEY  GEORGE!”  Then they would laugh and wave as I continued walking.   As time went on, there was the occasional “Hey Joe”, but most times it was George that came from their lips. 

Taw Taw (left) with Coy Coy & his tootsie roll

In Negros, the children were different in some way.  They acted like the kids in Cebu, but for me they had TITLES.   When I would walk to Julius’ house, the kids would say “hi”, but not much else.  Later I found out they were talking about how big and tall I was.  Then there was the little two year old neighbor boy named Coy Coy.  When he first saw me he started to scream, “MOO MOO!” (Monster) and would run into his Grandmother’s house.  He would never come out when I was visiting and no matter how hard they tried to verbally or physically coax him, the harder he resisted.  After seven months, he would finally take tootsie rolls from me, but he would not stay and still had to be pulled over to their house to receive his treats.  

 Three waiting for their treats on the road to Julius'

Since I had given out so many treats to so many kids in the “neighborhood”, most just called me “Cano” (American) and a few close neighbors would call me “Tito Daryl” (Uncle Daryl).  If I was walking with my little black candy bag (OK, I didn’t choose the color, it was convenient, available and it holds a lot of tootsie rolls), I would hear the term “Cano” being called out to the other kids before I ever got close. Then there would be youngsters all lined up along the road waiting for their chewy morsel.  I don’t know why, but I never did teach them about George…yet.

Actually in Negros, I got called George by adults more than kids.  It’s probably because I said it more to them.  One fish vendor (of which I have yet to learn his real name) would see me and call out “Maayong Aga George,” (good morning George) and I would reply, “Maayong Aga Joe!”  We would both wave and laugh as I continued on my Cano way.

Tootsie Rolls weren't on her mind when I took a picture

I suppose I should talk about the term, “neighborhood”.  The boundary areas of a neighborhood can vary.  In Owak, where Diana lives, it would be a geographical settlement of houses (about twenty) with marshland on three sides and the Visayan sea on the fourth.  There was one path which went through the marsh to the bamboo hamlet, or one could take the highway to the beach, climb over the wall (or under it at low tide) and take the scenic route. The boundaries of MY DEFINED NEIGHBORHOOD in Negros would be the compound in which I live and I consider the neighbors around Julius’ house as part of it too. I think a neighborhood is as big as you desire. Some are bigger in size than others, but they are a close knit group of families sharing life (and sometimes Tanduay (rum) with one another.

 Feline taking catnap outside the Restaruant

One evening I was walking back from the plaza (it was too dark to really see the traffic on the highway clearly), and as I was walking down a quiet residential street I suddenly heard a three year old boy yell, “Higanti! Higanti!”  He then ran to the protective arms of his papa. There was a group of adults sitting and chatting as I passed by.  The pre-schooler kept saying “Higanti,” quietly to his papa which only brought a roar of laughter from the crowd.  His grandpa (lolo) told me that Higanti meant GIANT.  Since I was so tall and much taller than the group seated there, I must have really been tall to that sprout of a boy.  From then on, whenever I passed the little child’s house, if the parents, or housekeeper saw me, they would tell the young tyke that the “giant” was walking past. 

I am sure that I will have other titles added to my name in the coming years, but the one I have enjoyed the most is “Senior Citizen”.  I  JUST  LOVE  THAT  CARD and also the many looks when I hand it to them for my discount. 

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I have dined at the Oasis quite a bit since my arrival in Himamaylan City.  It is an open air restaurant along the national highway.  Their menu offers a selection of several filling Filipino dishes with a Mango Shake included for only $2.50, thus if I get lazy (which is probably far more than I would like to admit), I eat there.  I always knew there was a basement underneath the structure, but never bothered to investigate.  However one day there was a racket going on by the steps and I thought I would sneak a peek to see what was down there. In the states, you would have the water heater, water softener, furnace and assorted boxes, but at this nice eatery they had a basement full of Tilapia fish.  Now, I don’t mean giant fish tanks full of them, but literally the entire basement area.  Scores of fish leisurely swam around in approximately nine inches of fresh water.  I had never seen them on the menu and asked the owner what they did with them.  She replied that they sold them locally.  As far as I was concerned, it was the largest indoor fish farm I had ever seen.  Somehow, in the states, there would have been some food safety issues with that.