Coniotics 101

Coniotics 101: Deconstructing a hybrid language
By Catherine Young
of the Inquirer News Service

"OUCH...grabe, it's so init! Like being made sunog in a microwave! Manang, can you make me paypay before I get himatay on the yucky ground? Please..."

Laugh all you want, but these days, more and more of the young (and old) are infected with this "coniotic language," a linguistic disease that unobtrusively spreads in certain parts of the metropolis, a mode of speaking that has been the subject of meticulously compiled jokes and forwarded e-mails, such as the quote above.

Spanish connection

Etymology-wise, the term conio is derived from the Spanish word for the female organ. Professor Rene Salvana, who teaches Spanish at the University of the East, said that in Spain, the term has evolved into a collection of bad expressions that connote animosity and vulgarity.
Perhaps this could be the reason why we use the term coniotic for people who code-switch from Tagalog to English and back in a melodramatic fashion. The grammar and the sentence structure from this hybrid "language" are far from praise-worthy--one would hardly use this language during job interviews if one wanted to be taken seriously. "Coniotics" is essentially used informally. It is at times characterized by a whiny or a pidgin ala-Doña-Victorina-de-Espadana accent.

Code-switching two languages can be very convenient; indeed, if coniotics were officially a language, it would have the easiest grammar to pick up. By simply joining the English verb "make" with the base form or repeating form of a Filipino verb, or by placing a Filipino word in an English sentence, by God, you are on your way to "making tusok-tusok the fishballs."

Greatest hits

For the most part, students from private exclusive schools were the ones who popularized this linguistic trend. Common, and admittedly hilarious, are the times when we hear people say, "Can you just make potpot the car?" when talking to their drivers. Lunchtime conversations with their schoolmates may go like this: "Grabe, I made iyak so much when I made lakwatsa in Mega and saw 'Serendipity'!" Furthermore: "I'm like so sawa na with all those romantic movies. I want to go shopping nga eh, but my mommy made putol my credit card; kakaasar debba?"

The jeepney is also a great place to catch coniotic phrases. A girl who is not used to commuting cannot tell the driver "Para" to get off. She may say, "At the corner, tigil." Since the driver may not understand her, the girl will scream, "Stop lang, please!"

Even some teachers are catching the virus. While most make it a point to speak straight English or fluent Filipino, it is easy to make a slip when teachers are surrounded by people who constantly speak that way. Of course, one cannot forget the classics "Form a straight circle" or "Pass your assignment tomorrow--right now!" These are not strictly coniotic, but also frowned upon in the academe.

Parents, too, are not spared, it seems. I was speechless when my dad told me "You make butas the hole." I forget what that conversation was about; my mind was reeling when I heard my own father speaking this way. However, when the situation sank in five minutes after, I had tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

Hybrid theories

I could not really find a single reference on why many people speak this way. Nor could I find the accepted scientific term for it. But it is clear that it is the elite that largely employs this so-called dialect.
Arnold Alamon, an instructor at the Department of Sociology in UP Diliman, has an idea on how this came about. Its roots may be traced to as far back as the '70s and '80s, when there was a rising middle class. The upstart English-speaking nouveau riche soon became busier, consequently having to hire Tagalog-speaking maids to care for their kids. Since the English-speaking kids had to use local words to communicate to their yaya, they started speaking in a mixture of English and local language. When they went to exclusive schools, they infected others with their quaint speech.

Familiarity and repetition, evidently, are very powerful in forming a language.
Alamon adds that there could be other factors as well. It could be an attempt of a generation to define itself, since the '70s and the '80s were decades of excess and, as such, it was important to have a place in the social hierarchy. The creation of a new way of speaking became the generation's means to show off their social status.

Whatever the cause may have been, it is clear that no matter how irritating or amusing it seems, coniotics connotes affluence. What may have started as a fad is now yet another indicator of the cultural and social rift, at least in the metropolis. Even respected newscasters and celebrities are known to use it. The "jologs" (hoi polloi) of society may laugh at and mimic them, but these coniotics-speaking people may not necessarily see themselves as linguistically disabled. Rather, they see it as an indicator of their socio-economic class; they may even deliberately speak this way--they certainly don't bother to correct themselves.

In fact, it is interesting to see that among the coniotics group, there are the legitimate and the fake. The legitimate can see through the phony ones, although it might not be very obvious to the rest of us. Non-coniotics adopt the mode of speaking of the majority just to fit in. In the same manner, the coniotics may want to shift their ways, i.e., speak in straight Filipino, if the situation is turned around.

Real or not, coniotics is a product of societal relations. Language should technically be used by about a million people to pass as a language; but it is apparent that coniospeak has come to represent a small subculture.