Under an assumed name
If you are going to use fake names on official government receipts, why not draw from history? While I admire the Vice President’s staff’s sense of humor, instead of the combination of café and snack, like “Mary Grace Piattos” or the pun “Andy Lim,” why didn’t they stick to Philippine history and literature? We have a rich tradition of aliases: Gabriela Silang, Gregoria de Jesus, or even “Johnny Moon.” The last comes from an Ilocos Norte restaurant named in honor of the painter Juan Luna, who usually signed his 19th-century works with the iconic Roman “LVNA”—the Spanish word for “moon.” Sometimes he playfully signed with the Baybayin characters for bu and la that read bula(n)—the Ilocano word for “moon.”
Over the decades, I uncovered the nicknames of our heroes the hard way—by reading their personal correspondence: Emilio Aguinaldo was “Miong,” Marcelo H. del Pilar was “Selong,” Mariano Ponce was “Naning,” Galicano Apacible was “Canoy,” etc. Spouses had official names and nicknames: Mrs. Aguinaldo/Hilaria del Rosario was “Yayang,” Mrs. Andres Bonifacio/Gregoria de Jesus was “Oryang,” and Mrs. Del Pilar/Marciana was “Tsanay.” The nickname of Jose Rizal’s father was “Kiko,” his mother was “Doray” or “Lolay,” his sister Saturnina was “Neneng,” Olympia was “Ypia,” Soledad was “Choleng,” Trinidad was “Trining,” and Josefa was “Panggoy.” In time, with practice, I could manage on my own, but it is easier using lists painstakingly compiled by Mauro Garcia (1965) and Jim Richardson (2013).
Browsing through the screen names of famous movie and TV personalities of the last century came as a big surprise because I didn’t realize many had foreign ancestry: Dorothy Jones was “Nida Blanca,” Florence Dannon was “Rosa Rosal,” Sigrid von Giese was “Paraluman” (Butterfly), Alice Lake was “Anita Linda,” and Ronald Kookooritchkin was “Ronald Remy.” Comedians carried only one name, usually a nickname: Rodolfo Vera Quizon was “Dolphy,” Alfonso Discher Tagle was “Panchito,” Augusto Pangan was “Chiquito,” Salvador Tampac was “Cachupoy,” Amparo Custodio Mora was “Chichay,” Canuto Francia was “Canuplin,” Pablito “Pablo” Sarmiento was “Babalu,” Mariano Contreras was “Pugo,” Andres Solomon was “Tugo,” and Perfecto Piñon was “Tugak” on screen, but in paintings, was “Peck Piñon.” Some screen names had repeating syllables like: Serafin Gabriel, who became “Apeng Daldal”; Adelaida Fernando, who became “Dely Atay-atayan”; and Pastora Mateo, who became “Patsy Patsotsay” or plain “Patsy.” In days when Pinoys still understood some Spanish, “Doro de los Ojos” described the comedian’s large eyes. Sometimes it was the opposite. Long before Cherie Gil or Armida Siguion-Reyna became the kontrabida of note, there was Remy Limson, hated on-screen as “Bella Flores”—definitely not the “beautiful flowers” of her screen name.
I was pleasantly surprised to find the aliases of the most influential historians of the second half of the last century: Teodoro A. Agoncillo hid under “Jose B. Rivera,” while Renato Constantino used “Amador” and “Mamerto.” I began my career at the tail end of the first Marcos administration, writing for the crony paper Philippines Daily Express. I used pen names when I wrote for the so-called “alternative press.” Can you guess what names I used in Veritas, Mr. & Ms., Newday, and the Sunday Times Magazine? Did you know that Emilio Aguinaldo submitted “Sa pinakamahalagang kabuhayan ng ama ng Katipunan, dakilang Andres Bonifacio” to the 1948 Bonifacio Biography Contest under the pen name “Dalomag”? That’s Magdalo spelled backward, like Rizal’s Hong Kong street address “Rednaxela Terrace,” that is, Alexander spelled backward.
Filipino literary and artistic figures dominate the aliases listed by Mauro Garcia. National Artist for Literature Amado V. Hernandez was “Ernani Hernany”; his wife, Honorata de la Rama, National Artist for Music, was known by her nickname “Atang de la Rama”; National Artist for Film Manuel Urbano (father of the comedian “Mr. Shoolie”) was “Manuel Conde”; and National Artist for Sculpture Guillermo E. Tolentino used “Batang Elias.” Other aliases that drew from Rizal’s novels were: Felipe G. Calderon, who used “Elias” and “Simoun”; Rosauro Almario, who was “Batang Simoun”; Cecilio Apostol, who was “Isagani”; Rosalia L. Aguinaldo, who was “Sisa”; and Juan Evangelista, who was “Crispin.”
Manuel Arguilla is a writer who is unfortunately known for only one widely anthologized story. He must have written more than the famous “How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife,” because he used four pen names: Baldomero Estabillo, Daniel Villar, Mercedes Estillore, and Tristan Araullo. Other Filipino writers in English were: Amando Dayrit (“Cyclops”), Vicente del Fierro (“Lily of the Valley”), Lina Flor (“Carlina Chanco Flores”), Leon Ma. Guerrero (“Eva Escolar” and “Totoy”), and his sister Carmen Guerrero Nakpil (“Josefina Cruz”), who was also rumored to be the 1980s faceless columnist “Aurora Cruz.”
When people declare that “history is written by the victors,” they don’t know that Philippine history is largely written under assumed names.
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Comments are welcome at ambeth.ocampo@inquirer.net
Pax Silica done right