In the sixties, before the internet, before cable TV, the DXRM radio station in Marawi was the clearing house of social, cultural and political happenstance in Lanao. In addition, it also served as a communication hub for the towns surrounding the lake especially in emergencies. This was a one-way communication before the icom radio handsets came into vogue, and way, way long before the ubiquitous mobile phones. For a minimum one hundred pesos, you could rattle off a dire message to your kin in, say, lowland Basak in sixty-seconds flat.
A typical SOS goes:
Phangĕnin ko ko mga maka sosowit sa radyo san sa Lumbayanague kalaan non san sa Pantao, a kapĕdi pĕdi kano bo na paki tokawi nyo san nggagan ko mga lokĕs, pagari, wata i Lomna Batolakit a zizii sĕkanian sa deneral publik ospital na kabibitinan sa katya, sa oba kano di makaoma nggagaan ka paka papatayin…
"I'm pleading to whoever has his radio switched on there in Lumbayanague, especially Pantao, to please, please do inform right away the parents, siblings and children of Lomna Batolakit that he is confined right now in General Public Hospital and an IV bottle is hanging by his side. So don't fail to come right away because he is on the brink of death."
These are miscellaneous income for the station. But the hefty ones come from political campaigns which are booked for at least an hour duration, some even dragging on for half a day to the detriment of lovelorn youngsters who are waiting to hear their song dedications announced and hear the voice of Eddie Peregrina or Perry Como play on the radio. DXRM was then a battleground for many a political duels between the Liberal Party and the Nacionalistas back then. One memorable tussle that I remembered was the occasion when the late Omar Dianalan, then mayor of Marawi, resented the use of an old proverb by the late Senator Domocao Alonto that went:
Sa di masĕrĕn sĕrĕn na kitang a rĕk ian on.
He who is unassertive ends up with an empty tin can.
Dianalan did not relish the employment of the proverb because it seemed to him opportunistic and inequitable. He particularly singled out the use of kitang as exhibiting poor taste. In what context the late senator was alluding to was lost to me because I was too young to understand politics. I was attending elementary grade at the time.
But the proverb caught on instantly with the masses for its picturesque quality and the reverberation of the empty tin can being kicked across the streets of Banggolo had a retentive element in the brain like monkey on the back. To be exact, the ever inventive doyen of Maranao letters toyed with the old proverb and recycled it fresh for general consumption.
The old one goes:
Sa di masĕrĕn sĕrĕn na kalokop a rek ian on.
He who is unassertive ends up with an empty wrapper.
Kalokop is the sheath attached to the leaf of the areca nut tree better known as betel nut. Before the Maranao started using canned goods (and later patronizing Macdonalds and Starbucks), they had been wrapping their delicacies and preserved sweets in kalokop for centuries. It is a sturdy substance with tensile strength yet light in weight.
We're not done yet.
The long form of the proverb is actually:
Sa di masĕrĕn sĕrĕn na baratamay lumna,
Na sa di matao mbabak na kalokop a rĕk ian on.
The senator loved his wordplay, and although he wanted to update the container to go with modern technology, he might had done well to retain the kambabak word. Kambabak might be loosely translated as leapfrogging but used in the proverb it also evokes a plethora of allusions: kowtowing, aggressiveness or being pushy, undermining and bypassing others by not toeing the line.
Thus:
He who can't leapfrog ends up with an empty tin can.
Now tell me, which one stays longest in your brain, the crackling crunch of wrappers or the pinging echo of tin cans being kicked along asphalt?
The most popular form of kambabak is the Moro you often see in Malacañan every day. You can't miss him. Down the hollowed hallways of the palace he waits patiently by the corridors, and whenever a manicured hand passes by, he ingratiatingly says a "Good Morning, sir," a "Good Afternoon, sir," and a "Good night, ma'am," while clutching a folder and a pen at the ready. Oh yes, the Moro eventually realized that the signing pen proves mightier than his kris. The next morning, you could see him again in the same demure stolid posture, so still, you could mistake him for an antique jar.
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