Paolo Manalo's poem, “Coñotations,” at first glance, doesn't look like a poem at all, but a list of riddle-like nonsensical statements of coño Filipinos, one of the most peculiar I've ever read and the most complicated to decipher. Technically, it doesn't follow a constant metrical pattern, rhyme scheme, and number of syllables per line like a free verse poem but it's more of a group of prosaic sentences.
One prominent feature of the poem is the language itself— simple standard English interspersed quite awkwardly with Tagalog words or phrases as in “make it pabalot kaya in the mall.” As the title cleverly suggests, the collective meaning of these “konyo” sentences is implied; therefore, a critic must devote considerable time to discover it. Moreover, the pet names “dude,” “man” and “pare” are repeated throughout the poem, making it sound like a typical coño conversation. Inscrutable as it seemed, for people like me who are not familiar with the coño language, there are complete sentences that point to the overall message of the poem.
The poem gradually appears to tell a story after one picks up clues along the way which progressively accumulate, and those are: tripping, suitcase, next stop, guide, and mall. The character/s seem to be journeying in the Philippines, and although they can understand Tagalog, they are unfamiliar with the place and that deduction is most suggestive.
Facetious and humorous as the poem is, behind it lies a painful truth: some Filipinos lack nationalism, a product of xenocentrism, that results in the gradual renouncement of the national language and the loss of ethnic identity, replaced by those of other countries they deem superior in all ways. Hypocritically, a Filipino might identify himself as a Filipino, but judging by the way he speaks, “he's not who he says he is.”
In addition, the author used literature to make a satirical criticism of these Filipinos. As implied by line 4, their incorporation of Tagalog accent or a few Tagalog words is meant to convey the message of remaining humble nationalism within them to others but it backfires since coño-ism is harder to understand and often gives the impression of pretentious elegance of speech that they think is a cue for having high socioeconomic status. But although coño statements sound “weighty,” most of them actually mean very little and sometimes even utterly insubstantial. The next line enforces that notion as well as the idea that the use of a few Tagalog phrases will let other people think that these coñotics “know how to look where [they] came from.” However, nationalism is better seen in actions, not speech.
It's a creative outlook into the Filipinos' identity crisis that calls for the preservation of our language. Just like in all other poems, the enlightening discovery that comes after minutes of analyzing a poetic riddle is a more than a good compensation. Although unconventional, this poem gave impactful and constructive insights about the real world of coño-ism and the interrelatedness of language and nationalism.
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