"BISAYANG dako," that's what we call ourselves in reference to our Visayan origins.
This is an ethnic identity that spans inhabitants of both Visayas and Mindanao island groups but not in the formal sense of how ethnic identities are determined.
We are more accurately classified as Cebuanos, Dabawenos, and Kagay-anons just to name a few of the sub-groups that make up the Bisdak identity.
Bisdak is more of an ethnic identification that arises in the context of other groups. Say, someone from Cebu and Davao find themselves in line at the MRT in Manila, and in the jostle for space during rush hour, one of them mutters, "pisti!" then an automatic solidarity is formed between the two.
It's like a trump card or a membership of an exclusive club composed of half the country's population versus the other half from the rest of non-Bisaya Philippines.
What is unique and heartwarming is the fluidity of relations instantaneously established when Bisdaks meet.
Everytime I ride a cab in Manila, I always engage the driver in small talk. Apart from mining from the cabbie about the sharpest political insight (many of which have made their way to this space), I always listen for the familiar Bisdak intonation.
Eight times out of 10, it is always a "Bai" (the bisdak version of pare) who happens to be at the wheel. If such Bisdak identities are established between the passenger and the driver then one is spared the obligatory tip, and the passenger can worry less about getting held up.
In universities in Manila, isn't it the case that the Bisdaks rule the many dormitories by their sheer number? I know of Tagalog friends who envy and are actually annoyed by this auto-solidarity - how we could understand them and speak their language and yet huddle among ourselves, speak our own dialect, and laugh devilishly, and then proceed to converse with them using their mother tongue. I am sure this is also true for Filipinos and Bisdaks working abroad.
Yet, one wonders if this lightness of friendship and easy solidarity of the Bisdak take place in all contexts. It seems to me that the Bisdak identification emerges in specific circumstances only. For instance, when the dominant culture is foreign i.e. Tagalog, or American, like a talisman or "Ironman," the Bisdak identification is called upon.
But among ourselves, do we have this automatic solidarity for each other "at home"? I am afraid not. Just look at the mayhem of our streets.
Crazy as it is, there is still some rules of courtesy that define Manila traffic behavior.
Eye contact is important among drivers in the northern metropolis. In that split second of seeing eye to eye, drivers communicate their intention through a method still yet to be deciphered by anthropologists. It could be that one acquires the right of way because you looked at the other driver first which would mean that you have first dibs at the intersection.
Here in Cagayan de Oro and other southern cities, eye contact is a no-no.
In fact what I observe is the absolute avoidance of eye contact and instead, the intention of the driver is conveyed through the bumper of his vehicle. At first, this frustrated me so much to the point that I have thought of installing a PA system just to vent and air out the expletives echoing inside the cabin of my truck. But I have learned the bumper trick since then to the discomfort of the occasional Manila-based passenger.
This kind of "iya-iya" behavior can be observed not just in the streets but also in almost all public spaces. In the supermarket line, when paying your bills, the bumper rule applies. Only when people line up to take their bland Sunday wafer is there a semblance of order.
One wonders why this is so. We can be Bisdak before others and yet not be Bisdak with ourselves here in our "home".
Maybe because the concept of "home" is problematic among us Bisdaks.
We are a people without roots because life is hard in the places we came from. That is why many of us leave or plan to leave for places more abundant and orderly. While we call CDO our home, we know we will be ready to leave it at a moment's notice once better opportunities come by. The solidarity Bisdaks is achieved when they meet each other in faraway places and is bounded by these common migratory aspirations.
In the meantime, for those of us left behind, our southern streets reflect this desperate dance of our shared fates as residents of migrant cities slowly transforming into urban squalor. These are places whose bounties are seemingly reserved only for the lucky few.
Maybe this is why drivers look away in the intersections of our streets in a migrant city like CDO. We might see in each other's eyes the truth and the horror about how we all are just going round and round without a destination.
And home always is far away and a dream.
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