“Nangankan, barok?” (Have you eaten yet, son?) my tata and nana would ask me every time I visit their home. No matter what time of the day, whether you’ve eaten a large meal they always seem to have food or ready to make some for me.
My tata and nana also use “have you eaten yet?” as a form of greeting, perhaps similar to the American idiomatic expression “how are you?” or “hello”. Unlike “hello” or “how are you?” “Have you eaten yet?” is both an invitation to eat and a diagnosis of one’s health. It is a question of the wellness of one’s body. Simply, “Have you eaten yet?” can mean, “how is your body feeling?”, “ Does your body need some food?”, “Are you healthy or sick?” “Have you eaten yet?” is a commitment to take care of each other’s health to both family and stranger. In short, it is a language of and from the guts.
If we put into context the words of my grandparents and their generation we can begin to see “Have you eaten yet?” in a deeper sense. My tata is 95 years old, which means he has lived through every war since the First World War. His parents and grandparents lived through the Spanish and U.S. colonial occupation of the Philippines. In time of war and colonial occupation the resources are limited (often the colonizers and land owners keep the majority of the land and food stock) and every bit of food is stretched to survival (this effect continues by the invitation to balon after parties. Ziploc, foil, Tupperwares are put to their use). Despite the limited resources the Ilokano people retained the virtue of communal living. Scarcity of food did not limit their ability to take care of another; it only meant that food had to be rationed strategically in order for the old and especially the youth to survive. The culture of giving and sharing continues today.
In these times of abundance and over consumption of food we are asked what does “have you eaten yet?” mean to our youth? How do we make sense of what it means to be hungry in a time of surplus? What do we feed our youth in order that they feel the hunger of our ancestors?
Perhaps, we can begin by reimagining the food that goes into our bodies. Realizing that there are many things needed to sustain our bodies and mind, not just food. We need food and nourishment for our souls too. As a 24-year-old Ilokano youth, I am ashamed to admit that I have forgotten to speak the Ilokano language; I know more about European and American history then Philippine and Ilokano history; I have confused the meaning of community and traded it with individuality.
I realize now that I am hungry. Hungry for the lost Ilokano words that have slipped my tongue; hungry for the lost and unspoken stories of my grandparents and the sakadas; hungry for that identity that was stripped away by the years of trauma under the colonial occupation of Spain and the forced assimilation of America. More than ever, we need to start remedying the malnutrition of our souls.
To my fellow youth I ask, “have you eaten yet?” of which I mean “are you hungry for what you do not know?” and “are you ready to exorcise the mis-education of our upbringing?” lastly, “are you ready to be whole again, to live a life that is free from self-degradation and the possibility of realizing the dream of our ancestors—freedom, justice, and equality for all?”
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