by Rheadh R. Dela Torre, CMF
I was sitting with seven other students around the table. The words, the accent, the laughter, the silence in between each question and answer, the sounds of utensils, of moving chairs, their names, their places of origin—all of these—were all strange and new to me.
My life was like that for several months. The day one was the day I entered the seminary.
My life was like that for few remarkable, irritating months. I would always find myself sitting in the seminary refectory next to a student whose dialect seemed to be from other realm and to another one who also has his own. The problem was the language.
The college seminary seemed to be excluded from the rest of Manila because of the various languages and dialects both spoken and heard- Ilokano, Bicol, Cebuano.
And I hated it. Yes, I did. Simply because I am a manileño and I could not join in their dialogues.
Finally, I was able to converse in Cebuano after several months in the postulancy. Now, am going an extra mile again in learning Spanish. Here are few gathered bits of reflection about language and words.
***
It always amazes me how words have been powerful in the timeline of history. Would the story of humanity be different should language had never existed? What if we never learned writing and reading or deciphering symbols? Words are wonderful and powerful, I realized.
Even our faith says the same thing. God created with words. He breathed life with words. He appreciated; he gave his creations value and worth with words. His Son
Himself was the Word. The Word preached, healed, forgave, stirred up the society, asked the paralytic to rise, broke the bread, shared the wine, sent the disciples and prayed using words.
Human history says the same thing. We broke wars with words. Tyrants changed the course of time with words. Battles, duels, wars, peace, harmony and understanding are moved by and described with words.
In our daily experience, we know how powerful words are. We can make someone be chuffed to bits or otherwise, be sad with our words. They, words, speak on
behalf of the person. When someone speaks, he does not only open his mouth. He opens his heart, his mind, the totality of his being. He allows himself to be judged
and be vulnerable because he exposes his heart, mind and soul in the multitude of words, words and words.
But words are weak. Insufficient. Kulang.
Our words cannot express the totality of what we feel and what we think. Isn’t it that most of the times we struggle in looking for “that” perfect-possible-word and yet we cannot due to the poverty of language? And we just remain in silence.
Words, in its powerfulness, remain weak.
But there is something more. Those words that are from the heart are the same words produced by a listening heart.
And our words are all that we have. We describe. We curse. We write. We communicate. We fall in love. We die. We live. With words.
***
One of my formators would always tell us before that the vow of poverty comes in many varying forms. “If you cannot express yourself, that is the poverty of language,” he said. The flesh is indeed weak. When I prefer doing other things than to study Spanish, I just pray, “Lord, thank you for this poverty.”
***
Two months ago, I won in the essay writing competition of the Language school where I am enrolled in. The theme was “Las dos cabezas” (The two heads). I would like to share with you an excerpt of it translated to English.
He who has two heads is a stranger. The fact is that when he was born with only one head like the rest. However, when he reached a new place, he had to buy another one. He bought a head of a baby. This time, he has two—an old and a young. Which is better? I am clueless. Nevertheless, I am sure of one thing. The old head is filled with experiences while the new one has hopes.
These two heads represent the languages. This man mirrors each language student. Each one brings with him/her his/her language and culture. They are safely kept in
the head he/she has since then. He already had many experiences. His feet had landed on different grounds and already had enjoyed different foods and drinks but at the end of the day, all that he has is his own culture.
For different reasons- for studies or for work or for simply learning something new, the stranger has to have another head. This is not to forget nor to throw the old.
Learning the language is no less than learning the culture. With eyes widely open, the stranger gazes with surprise at the new culture in front of him. Now, he has two heads. One is not better than another. Each is different with the same worth and value. He has two heads- one filled with experiences and another, with hope.
