KANU & NOKA in Kalinga Oral Tradition

Oral tradition is characterized by recurring expressions. In the folklore of western Kalinga (Vanaw), for instance, the particle kanú and the noun noká occur repeatedly.

Kanú

CICM scholars Francisco Billiet and Francis Lambrecht, define and explain the use of kanu in the ullálim epics of Southern Kalinga, as follows:

Kanú literally means ‘it is said’ or, occasionally, ‘the said,’ when it refers to a person previously mentioned. Kanú, however, is not to be translated as ‘he says’ or ‘they say,’ as if it were the utterance of somebody in particular. By inserting kanú in his phrases, the speaker or narrator repeatedly assumes the role of someone quoting from tradition. In poetry, kanú often produces assonance with the preceding or succeeding words, as in lam kad kanú. The word may sometimes merely be a literary device to obtain the required number of syllables or feet in a given verse. In the English translation of the ullálim in this issue, the word has not been translated but simply written “kanu” whenever it occurs in the Kalinga text. (Billiet & Lambrecht 2001, 74)

In our (Dr. Lawrence “Laurie” A. Reid, me and Dr. Michiyo Yoneno-Reyes) translations of some folktales of western Kalinga, we often use “it is said,” “so said,” or “reportedly” for kanu or kana kanú, depending on the text and its context. In the folktale “Nampalpuwan Ji Iyug” ‘The Origin of the Coconut,’ for instance, we have the following bilingual texts:

Osan al-algaw kanu man, man-ay-ayam jit anak hijit jalipong. Ot yom-og na kanun… na-id adsana palikilikiyan. Awni man ot inggaw kanu sumilisiling a injasana sin sagud jit jalipong ot, “Ina, ngam pay jitu?” kana kanu.

Now, one day, it is said, the child was playing by the hearth. And he kept on… there was nothing he would not pry open. Suddenly, there was [something] shimmering, it is said, which he found across the hearth and, “Mother, what could this be?” he reportedly said. (*as retold by Barcelon Panabang; Reid-Yoneno-Reyes-Saboy transcription and translation)

A narrator’s use of kanu in Kalinga orature, as noted by Billiet and Lambrecht above, is a rhetorical marker for a previous source or a series of sources from the past. It is a bard or storyteller’s way of acknowledging that what he chants or narrates is not just his own but belongs to a community of storytellers. In other words, it is the indigenous method of citation for oral-aural performances and a way of asserting collective ownership over oral traditions.

This is highly significant especially today when many researchers who go to indigenous communities fail to acknowledge in their final outputs the culture bearers from whom they sourced out information. In the academic world where copyrights and authorship reign supreme, many researchers and institutions forget or casually neglect the fact that the physical, textual and audio-visual materials they gathered from the field are actually owned by the community where they obtained these. This is one reason why I believe that copyrights to community dictionaries should belong to the community itself, and not to the researchers, compilers, or publishing companies. I also believe that it is wrong for some enterprising professors to require their students to gather folklore from the elders of indigenous communities, compile and publish these without asking permission from and/or acknowledging the original sources of these materials.

On the other hand, I have observed that this idea of community ownership over the orature of indigenous communities has led some natives themselves to just take ideas or copy researches of fellow natives and present these as their own, not bothering to acknowledge their sources. Or to take another person’s write-up and publish this without asking permission from the author. The reasoning seems to be that since the ideas contained in some kailyan‘s academic or popular article were drawn from their interviews with or observations of the ili, these are the collective property of the ili; thus, it is all right for another kailyan to just get ideas from these researches without proper acknowledgment. I have had a first-hand experience about this in relation to my old blogsite, where some articles I wrote were plagiarized by some fellow Igorot scholars/writers. I also find it off-putting that some Filipino academics would write papers based on the raw data of other researchers whom they never bothered to get permission from.

So this little word says a lot about the axiological (ethical) aspect of doing research among indigenous peoples.

Noka

This was quite a troublesome expression for me while translating Vanaw texts. I wanted to use whatchamacallit but it looked and sounded awkward. Thankfully, Laurie had a ready word for it: “what’s-it.” Cute.

And so, in the following excerpt from the Vanaw folktale “Lakinta,” we have the following source text and translation:

Aji kad hajit un-una na, sajit pipiya-on jat vuvya-i, mingol un hajit ajud patoyona ta siyad kuwa jan nokas jin un-una na a tay hat mingol jit pipiya-on jajit vuvya-i.

Now in the olden times, what women liked were warriors who had killed many for that was their, what’s-it, before, for it was warriors whom women liked. (*as retold by Barcelon Panabang; Reid-Yoneno-Reyes-Saboy transcription & translation)

This word (Il. kua; Tag kuwan) indicates hesitation or a pause in thought, and is a useful expression for chanters or storytellers for it can give them a moment to recompose their thoughts. As a shortcut for an idea, it is also an indicator of whether their listeners understand the context or reference of this expression. Consider, for example, the following excerpts from another Vanaw folktale, “Juljulaw“:

Kit hajit natantannuvungan kit siya mit la-ing man-alavan jajit luwang. Jinojogjog ja kanu ot sinikmat ja kanu sit tantannuvung. Ot aju jajit man noka on a. Ot sinangsangju ja kanu jit tagu. Ot hajit tagu, na-id kanun… nansisina kanu ji long-ag na tay aju jajit luwang un mansangju kan hiya. Aji kad, na-ijon a jit noka na tay pinatoy jajit luwang.

And those grasslands were where the water buffalos fed. They chased him and caught him in the grasses. And a lot of them got on with it. And they gored the man, it is said. And that man, he had no… his body was torn to pieces for there were many water buffalos that gored him. So then, his life was gone already for the water buffalos killed him. (*as retold by Barcelon Panabang; Reid-Yoneno-Reyes-Saboy transcription & translation)

In our English translation, we decided to interpret noka in the two instances it is used in this excerpt, to make the meaning clearer for the readers. But if the story were told in the original language before a group of Vanaw speakers, no interpretation is needed for they would have readily understood that aju jajit man noka on means many carabaos were goring the man, and that na-ijon jit noka na means he died.

*Billiet, Francisco and Francis Lambrecht. 2001. Studies on Kalinga Ullalim and Ifugao Orthography. Baguio City: Immaculate PrintHall.