The Letter Z

The British call it “zed”. Americans call it “zee”. Filipinos, on the other hand, despite American indoctrination do not seem to agree how to call it. Some of us call it “zee” like the Americans. Some, however, call it “zay” (rhymes with ray).
I first noticed this fact back on my Freshman year in UP. I was staying at Kalayaan, a dormitory exclusive for freshmen. Residents of that dorm hailed from various regions of the country. So I decided to do a little data gathering to find out how others called it. This is the result of that sampling session:

Region I “zee” = 1 “zay” = 6
Region II “zee” = 0 “zay” = 2
Region III “zee” = 1 “zay” = 4
Region IV “zee” = 4 “zay” = 2
Region V “zee” = 3 “zay” = 2
Region VI NO DATA
Region VII NO DATA
Region VIII NO DATA
Region IX “zee” = 1 “zay” = 0
Region X “zee” = 2 “zay” = 0
Region XI “zee” = 2 “zay” = 0
Region XII “zee” = 4 “zay” = 0
CAR “zee” = 0 “zay” = 1
NCR “zee” = 6 “zay” = 0
ARMM NO DATA

So it seems that nobody from the southern regions called it “zay” hence, my surprise then at hearing the letter pronounced that way. Truth be told, I felt as if fingernails were scratching at a blackboard whenever I heard “zay” being mentioned. I adapted after a long while. I no longer felt grossed out by it, only a little bit distracted, but I still had a slightly controllable urge to correct its pronounciation.
About 7 years later, I was reminded of this fact again after hearing Lozada testify about the ZTE deal. He always said “zay-tee-eee” instead of “zee-tee-eee”. It came as no surprise when I found out that he hails from Region V. This prompted me to dig out the mini survey I did 7 years ago.

PS NCR people should not feel cocky about their “proper” pronunciation of the letter Z. I have a friend who is a true blue Manila boy who pronounces it as “zay”.

PPS **y, if you’re still reading my blog, I’m referring to you. =P. I never told you that it felt a little distracting to hear you calling that letter as “zay”. So consider this as my succumbing to the “slightly controllable urge to correct its pronunciation”. Of course, you don’t have to follow it… ;p.

Help Me Believe

I think I am the only Filipino who’s virtually unaffected by Jun Lozada’s terrible expose. The President and all the people accused must be shivering in their toes while desperately planning to discredit him. The rest of the Filipino people must be rightfully excited and hopeful thinking that finally corruption would be unmasked and destroyed.
Yet on the outside, I am numb to the proceedings and hearings. I watch them occasionally, and I must admit that I believe in Lozada’s words. He looks sincere, and his testimony is logical and simple; which is very unlike what the Administration wants us to believe.
On the inside, however, I am ambivalent. I want to believe that justice would be served. I want corruption to end. I want change, real change. My country doesn’t deserve this kind of leadership. It doesn’t deserve to slowly rot under its own grime and refuse.
Nevertheless, the cynic in me does not believe that justice can be found in this world. If it were so, the victims of the Enron fiasco would have been repaid with what thieves and deceivers owed them. The perpetrators would have faced jail, and not die in luxury while waiting for the next trial. The blood of the slain journalists in my country would have been appeased by the punishment of those who killed them. Their families have only empty promises in their hands. The victims of the Khmer Rouge would have seen these criminals suffer for the brutality of their reign. Two decades have passed, but not even one has paid.
I am like the man in Mark 9:11-29 praying to Jesus for his son to be freed from an evil spirit. I know that God can do what I think is impossible, and I want to believe that he still does it. This country would then be a far cry from where we are now when honesty becomes the norm and not the exception, when high profile criminals are served justice, and when the money for government actually goes to government projects and not to politicians’ pouches.
“Lord, I believe… Please help my unbelief.”