The fascinating origins of Filipino words

AS a writer, words are my stock-in-trade. I have written in English as well as in the vernacular. But ever since I encountered words like dalumat, matarling, kariktan, matimyas and all those unfamiliar terms that sounded so intriguing and enchanting, my dilettante’s fascination with native words have been kindled and has grown more intense through the years.

I hunt for these odd and unusual native terms and write them down on a notebook. And the more I encounter them, the more I realize that there’s something much more to be uncovered or to be revealed about our native terms beyond their dry dictionary meanings.

Recently on the Internet, I learned that

naga is an ancient Filipino term for a mythical serpent-like dragon. There is also the word

bakunawa said to be a giant dragon believed to swallow the moon, in reference to what we now call a lunar eclipse. The Bagobo tribes also believed in the minokawa, a giant dragon-like bird that swallows the sun, to explain a solar eclipse. Other appelations for this mythical dragon include olimaw, tambanakua, arimaonga and more. Why so many references to dragons in our ancient vocabulary?

On a twitter conversation thread, someone shared that there is an old native term for rabbit which is buot found in Vocabulario de la lengua tagala compiled by P. Juan de Noceda and P. Pedro de Sanlucar and published in Manila in 1754. Were there rabbits in pre-colonial Philippines? And what about

gadya, which is an ancient Tagalog word for elephant. Isn’t it odd that our precolonial vocabulary had such terms?

When you walk back to the origins of these words, they give you interesting insights as well as hindsights, revealing teasing glimpses of our history and if you dig enough, they can lead you to the wellspring of our culture. Each of them has a story to tell. From words spring forth narratives of our race and culture. It’s an intellectually stimulating passion, akin to discovering 2,000-year-old manuscripts or million-year-old mammoth fossils. With every surprising factotum, your mind goes:

Hindi ko alam ’yun a. Ganoon pala!

This is why I am frustrated that we don’t have something like the Oxford Etymology Dictionary for our native terms. I don’t mean definition of meanings. We have enough dictionaries for that purpose. I mean an etymology, which is the modern branch of linguistic science that deals with the origin and evolution of words.

Etymology is from the Greek word etymologia and according to them, this undertaking consists of “unwrapping or decoding a name to find the message the name givers have placed inside.” In other words, it is an “analysis of a word to find its true origin,” or “a study of the true sense of a word.”

The “unwrapping” and “decoding” aspects are what I am more interested in.

A Filipino etymology dictionary will not only enhance our deeper understanding of primeval beginnings of our native language, but it will give us insights into its shared roots with other languages. If we look at words in Tagalog or other dialects, we think they are indigenous. But we share them with the Malay language.

A Filipino Internet blogger, Resty Odon, lists down a litany of words we share with our racial brothers from Indonesia and Malaysia from ako, bahagi, balik to palayok, pangulo, pasok, sintá, to takot, ulan, utak, and utang. It’s a very long list of terms we share with our racial cousins in this part of the world, enough to make us realize that the basic core of our native lingo is Malay in origin.

Then, take our penchant for addressing everyone as kuya or ate. Again Ridon’s blog tells us that these are adaptations of Chinese nomenclature, including bunso, a term of endearment for the youngest sibling in a Chinese family. Totoy is the literal translation of the “foolish one” and variant of this is atoy, toto, itoy which are all variant names given to the youngest boy. As opposed to foolish one, the youngest girl is called nene, which in Chinese literallymeans“dullone,”whichhintsatthelow regard given to girls in a Chinese household.

There are also many other words in our contemporary lingo whose origins can be found in the Chinese language. Bimpo is from bin-po which is Chinese for face and fabric. Hikaw is combination of two Chinese words, hee means ear and kaw means hook. Susi, which should be pronounced as so-see, is Chinese for lock-key. Of course, every Pinoy is familiar with bihon, pansit, lumpia, misua, hopia, tikoy, champoy, mami, and toyo, which are all derived from the Chinese language.

Some Filipino terms surprisingly have Japanese origin: dahan-dahan, from dandan meaning slowly, gradually, tamang-tama is Japanese for just right, kaban our term for sack of rice, was originally bag in Japanese, tansan was originally soda in Japanese, and of course jack-en-poy is a Japanese rock-paper-scissors game pronounced as jankenpon.

But there are more surprises. Tagalog words such as budhi, dukha, dalita, diwata, katha, likha, mukha, masaya, saksi, sampalataya, sabon, and many more can trace their origins in the Sanskrit

language, by way of the Hindu language. Bathala, our local appelation for God, is said to be derived from Bhattara Guru, which means “the highest of the gods.” If we are to believe an Indian immigrant, Sunita Khatnani, “Tagalog is 25 percent Sanskrit, mostly words signifying intellectual acts, moral operations, passions, superstitions, names of deities, planets, higher numerals, botany, war and its outcomes and vicissitudes.”

Stephen Acabado, who is writing a book on the archaeology of the indigenous history of the Philippines, mentioned in a recent article that we have even borrowed words from Nahuatl (the language of the Aztecs of Mexico) including nanay, tatay, tiyangge, palengke and many more.

But these are just patikim or pasilip of what a Philippine etymology dictionary can do to open a hidden treasure chest of concepts, feelings, and spirit that define the kabihasnan of our race. Not to mention that they will be good conversation points with peers and friends, making you appear learned.

There are terms like pasma, bangungot, usog, kulam and so on that beg deeper analysis.

In one of his articles, columnist Michael Tan discoursed on the Tagalog words dalamhati and lualhati, which uncovered deeper layers of meanings to reflect and ruminate on. What about our common word “tao?” Where did it come from? Does the word have any original connection to the Chinese “tao?” Like a labyrinth, a suffix or a word can lead one to other contiguous paths of inquiry.

Don’t even get me started on the origins of the names of Philippine towns such as Cainta, Calamba, Pila, and many others. Another delightful side topic is how we got our native culinary terms.

Through this article, I call the attention of anyone at the Kagawaran ng Wikang Filipino, the UP Department of Linguistics or any institution involved in linguistic research to consider a Filipino etymology book project, no matter how long it will take. I believe such a dictionary, preferably with digital version and freely accessible, will help the next generation unpeel the layers and layers of our past and gain a more enlightened appreciation of our culture beyond what they are told to read and memorize in their school books. Our native literature will surely be much more enriched by the works of next generation Filipino writers who will be using such a dictionary as reference.

In the beginning is the word. And what a world of stories from its beginning!