HOMESPUN WIT AND HUMOR are manifest in the signs the Filipino puts up and the names he coins. He is quite creative. It may even be claimed that he is either very inventively humorous or humorously inventive.
In the early fifties and sixties, for example, when the basic transportation fare within Metro Manila was just ten centavos, the creative Filipino jeepney driver, instead of using a formal statement to request passengers to sit properly in public conveyances, posts the sign “Upong Diyes Po Lamang.” One admires, too, the truck driver who crudely paints the quaint warning at the rear of his vehicle “Potpot Bago Losot.” A more sophisticated bumper signage is “’Wag Gumitgit; Baka Sumabit.”
However, the Filipino blue collar oftentimes makes use of many well-meaning signs that often makes me wince, like “Parking Strickly for Costumers Only”; the cryptic “No Beer is Prohibited to Minors Below 18 Yrs. Old”; the mind-cringing “Specialize in Vokswagen”; and the irritating “Road Close.”
Do Filipino drivers know how to read traffic signs or is it because they just don’t care? Here’s a testimony of their indiscipline: Along the highway, an ordinary “NO OVERTAKING” sign is not enough. After a few hundred meters, it has to be followed with “STRICTLY NO OVERTAKING.” This makes me sometimes wish that the next signpost along the road would be a large arrow pointing to a total wreck of a car with a placard beside it that says “AYAW MANIWALA KASI, E. ”
From EDSA, when you turn towards Ayala Avenue or the central business district of Makati, you would be confronted by this officious looking sign: “CLOSED DOOR POLICY STRICTLY ENFORCED.” Don’t take this as a sign of snobbish corporate exclusivity. It simply means that buses plying the route are required to keep their doors shut so that reckless passengers cannot jump in or out in the middle of dangerous intersections.
A friend who lives out of town and only occasionally comes to Manila was wondering why so many new signs were put up for a visiting Chinese VIP named “PED XING” until she almost got arrested for jaywalking.
Shortly after the EDSA Revolution, a makeshift sign was painted behind the giant bust of Marcos on the mountainside along the highway to Baguio that says ”PUEDENG UMIHI DITO.”
At EDSA Crossing in Mandaluyong, naughty street vendors scraped off the letters “W” and “D” from a “DITO PO TUMAWID” sign to the delight of passers-by.
Not far away, along the side road near the China Overpass, I found a perfect illustration of irony and an innocent denigration of government ineptitude. The common government infrastructure sign, “THIS IS WHERE YOUR TAXES GO,” was used as a temporary barrier over an open storm drain manhole.
And now, lets turn to signboards of commercial establishments. Among my early favorites are the ironic “Funeraria Mabuhay,” and the intriguing “3 Sisters Vulcanizing” (One wonders if the girls are still doing their thing till now). Now, we have “Elizabeth Tailoring,” “Goldirocks Gravel & Sand,” “Peter Pan De Sal,” “Scissors Palace Barber Shop,” and “Mercy Buko Fresh Coconuts.” “Cinna Von” does not sell sweet pastries—it is a Laundromat. “ Pansit ng Taga-Malaboni” is a noodle shop found near Boni Avenue, Mandaluyong City. And if you love James Bond thrillers, this one would surely stick to your brain: “Farmacia With Love.”
Here are other store names: “Maruya Carey” (selling turon and maruya), “Wrap and Roll” (a lumpia outlet), “Isda Best” (a fish restaurant), “Curl up and Dye” (beauty parlor), “Petal Attraction” (flower shop), “Maid to Order” (a placement agency), “Doris Day and Night” (a 24-hour karinderia), “Candies Be Love” (a candy store), and “Ali Baka” (a shawarma establishment).
Oftentimes, a catchy name would spell the difference between success and failure when trying to attract customers into a store or eating-place. Riding on the popularity of the brand names of big chains may help in memory recall but somewhat cheapens the business establishment. Just like these flippant puns: “Caintacky Fried Chicken” at Cainta, Rizal, or, “Aristobak,” an eatery frequented by taxi drivers behind the classy Aristocrat Restaurant in the old days. I’m sure you’ve also heard of the insolent imitations like “Mang Donald’s,” “Jobillee” and “Magnobia” almost infringing on the copyrighted brand names of the food giants. How about the jeepney that was remodeled and now serves low-priced quick lunches at sidewalks? Its name? “VIAje MARE.”
What I personally found cute was this small karinderia near Banawe, which boasted of delicious home-cooked food—“Cooking ng Ina Mo.” It became so successful that a competitor, wanting to get even, perhaps, put up one just like it right across the street—“Cooking ng Ina Mo Rin”!
Still on the subject of business names, small gift shops or boutiques owned by three partners often take the first syllables of the owners’ first names to call their shop. “Felumar’s,” for example, may be owned by the kumadres, Fely, Lumeng and Maria. “Rodeliz,” meantime, comes from the first syllables of Rowena, Delia and Elizabeth. Following this trend, business partners Potenciana, Tangerine and Innamorata, should either change their given names, choose a store name not based on their names, or maybe should not go into partnership at all.
The Filipino loves to concoct delicious names. Not so long ago, for instance, an alternative basketball league (MBA or Metropolitan Basketball Association) was established to complement (if not compete with) the very popular PBA or Philippine Basketball Association. Similar to the NBA of the USA, the original plan was to decentralize the game and organize several teams to represent different areas in the country. That kicked-off a mad guessing game among punsters on what names these ball clubs would be sporting—the more preposterous, the funnier. Early suggestions were: “Cavite Anting-Antings,” “Batangas Balisongs,” and “Cubao Farmers.” Later contributions were getting more outlandish—“Bulacan Sweets,” “Pampanga’s Best” and even “Baguio Beans.” Who would be courageous enough to play against a team that calls itself the “Muntinlupa Inmates”? The only lineup that could probably match up to them would be the “Iwahig Internees.” Then there is this mythical group of tall boys from Bicol called “Legaspi Towers” and the paradox of a team, the “Pandacan Giants.”
Even well known personalities are not invulnerable from the blitz of creative name-callers. For instance, there is this gravel and sand company owned by four guys whose family names are Andrada, Trinidad, Ortega and Yap. Their corporate name? “A.T.O.Y. Co.” How about this small talipapa in Guadalupe that is named “Orly’s Mercado”?
The “gaya gaya, puto maya” syndrome is not an exclusive Filipino trait. The Japanese, for instance, came out with “Land Cruiser,” an all-purpose, all-terrain utility vehicle when they copied the British “Land Rover.” But what do you think the Filipino called its copy of the “Pajero”? You guessed it—“Parejo,” with the “j” pronounced the way Spanish do.
Chateaubriand, ratatouille or coq au vin are popular French dishes. But did you know that we have our own version of escargot? It is called “iskargu” which is the short for the common man’s ulam: isda, karne at gulay.
Let’s be more plebeian. Roasted chicken feet are simply called “adidas”; barbecued chicken intestines, meanwhile, are “IUD’s” because they do look like those birth-control devices; a broiled chicken kidney is “bato.” Char-grilled pork ears are labeled “Walkman.” An exotic aphrodisiac fare of pork testicles is listed as “Great Balls of Fire.” A menu item with the name “The Day After the Fiesta Special” is actually “paksiw na lechon.”
The combo breakfast of tapa, sinangag and itlog is now commonly known as “tapsilog” (“tapsi” for short), “tusilog” has tuyo as the main entrée, while “longsilog” has longanisa. Many more creative combinations have been invented since. Then the eateries where these are served followed suit. One such outlet calls itself “Tapsi Turvee.”
“Truth in advertising” disallows the use of claims for a product or service that are refutable, but is limited to just that—claims. In other words, if a word or words describe some salient feature of a product but is endemic to the name and no claims are made about it, it is okay. For example, “Katialis,” a local skin ointment, actually does not remove the itch but attacks the cause of the malady. In the same manner, if you call your building “The X Tower,” it’s okay even if the structure is only six stories high. One cannot complain that there are neither plains in the hilly subdivision of White Plains, nor hills in the relatively flat Greenhills area.
Whether he lives in an exclusive subdivision or in a cramped hovel under a bridge somewhere, the Filipino’s talent and penchant for dreaming up names and signs are incomparable. Aside from the admitted fact that “likas na palatawa and Pinoy,” he is proud to call his country “The Land of a Thousand Smiles.” That is why he swears by the sign that says: “Bawal ang Nakasimangot Dito.”
by Ernie Zárate.)
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