Beyond Pacquaio-De La Hoya, Two People’s Long-lost Ties
By Rene P. Ciria-Cruz
Just when you think the buzz over the Pacquiao-De La Hoya fight is so yesterday, and we’re all already blogged out on it, now comes the historical perspective. Historical perspective? On uppercuts and left hooks? Just read on.
What most people don’t realize is that Manny Pacquiao may well have Mexican blood flowing through his veins, and Oscar De La Hoya just might have Filipino juice in his. They could be long-lost cousins, as a matter of fact.
It’s not common knowledge that Mexico and the Philippines had 250 years of close political and cultural ties before the 20th century and the advent of Pax Americana in the Pacific. The results are little noticed today, but enduring.
Consider the following words: tocayo (namesake), tiangui (street stall), zacate (sweet grass). They’re of Nahuatl (Aztec) origin, but they’re also Tagalog or Filipino words with the same meaning. The Filipino word for open market is “palengke,” which is derived from Palenque, a Maya ruin near Chiapas, Mexico.
A town two hours away north of Manila is called Mexico, the Hispanization of its native original, Masicu. Another town nearby is called Guagua, which means “wagon” in old Central America, or “passenger bus” today. Mexicans call a beach hut “palapa,” which is palm frond in Filipino. The coconut palm and knowledge of its many uses were reportedly brought from the Philippines in the 16th century.
The Mexican drink “tuba,” made from fermented coconut sap, is also called “tuba” by its Filipino rural aficionados. In Mexico, I first encountered it at the central town plaza in Puerto Vallarta. Filipino sailors introduced the liquor to Mexico’s Pacific coast in the distant past. They also may have popularized a Southeast Asian way of serving raw fish, which is called ceviche today in Latin America.
Some food items are called by the same names by both Mexicans and Filipinos, with slight variations in spelling: achuete, caimito, jicamas, zapote, camachile, maiz, avocado, chayote, camote, cassava. These produce were brought to the Philippines from Mexico. Filipinos also have tamales, although they’re made from sticky rice instead of corn, and wrapped in banana leaf, not cornhusk. They have their own take on adobo and menudo.
An early version of globalization bore these fruits of a cultural communion between two peoples living at opposite ends of the Pacific Ocean. The process began in 1565, when Spanish colonization of the Philippines began in earnest. Miguel Lopez de Legazpi, who had been a functionary in Mexico for 20 years, sailed into the archipelago that year with 300 Mexican soldiers to begin subjugating the natives.
After Legazpi, all colonial governors of the Philippines would be Mexican-born Spaniards. Spain, in fact, didn’t rule the Philippines directly, but through its viceroyalty in Mexico, or Nueva Espana. The first Filipinos to arrive in Mexico were a handful of exiles, deported for hatching plots against the Spanish. Among them was Pedro Balingit, the chieftain of a Muslim village that became my old neighborhood in Manila.
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