Culture: Ang Bagong Alamat ng Calamba
The “Banga” has been the symbol of Calamba ever. It originated from the legend of Calamba which tells a story about two Spanish soldiers, speaking in Spanish asking two native women selling homespun clay pots and stoves the name of the town. The women, who do not understand Spanish and thinking that the Spaniards were asking about their wares anxiously asked back, “Kalan? Banga?”
Like most legends in Laguna that tells about the origin of the name of towns, the name “Calamba” arose from a miscommunication between Spaniards and the ignorant non-Spanish speaking native. From the words “Kalan” and “Banga” emanated Calamba. It is a blending of words− a portmanteau. Where is the "Palayok,"the pot that tops the structure at the old Calamba Plaza, said to be the symbol of Calamba?
Seemingly though, there is a great discrepancy. Kalan and Banga do not pair. Although both may be made out of baked clay or terra cotta, “Kalan” is a stove and “Banga” is an earthen jar. No one cooks with an earthen jar. What the early and modern day Filipinos call ‘Banga” is a big narrow rimmed, ovalish vessel with tapered bottom used to contain water, grains, and sometimes palm sap for fermentation to vinegar.
Some may have already noticed the discrepancy. Thus they deviate and use “Clay Pot,” instead of “Banga,” or earthen jar, in some publications. This might have made it closer to the representation of the town symbol, institutionalized by the giant structure called “Banga” although it is shaped like a cooking pot, at the old Calamba Plaza, made by the late sculptor Felipe Samaniego in 1939, and also unofficially acclaimed the biggest pot in the world, but it veered far away to the true “Banga” and its significance in the legend.
Could it be high time to rethink and arrange this discrepancy? Could it be time for us to give some thoughts and concern about this buzzing city’s history, arts and culture? Shall we rewrite the legend?
Maybe some may think that it is sort of sacrilegious to change what is believed for several decades or maybe a century. But, could it be more right to keep what is wrong than correcting the wrong? What else is more sacrilegious than desecrating a master piece that had stood for more than eighty years to allegedly fit with the modern environment of the city?
Here is my version of the legend:
During the very early era of the Spanish regime in the Philippines, the Spanish government implemented the “Reduccion.” It was a resettlement policy employed by the Spaniards to conveniently administer the colonies. Spanish authorities enticed the natives to live within hearing distance of the church bells (Bajo de Campana) .
To set up plans for the consolidation of scattered communities in a big expanse of land called Baybayin ruled by Gat Pangil at the shore of the lake, authorities sent two Augustinian missionaries to map the area. With them was a laity, the ship’s cook that had sailed before with earlier Spanish explorers. The cook served as their interpreter.
Sailing through the Pasig River, the missionaries spotted a community near the foot of Mount Makiling. Their ship dropped anchor and the priests sent the cook to shore to inquire how the community was called. On the shore, the cook saw a shed, filled with homespun potteries (earthen jars, stove and clay pots). The cook remembered that he needs a small earthen jar to store salt on the ship’s kitchen. Standing amidst the wares was a very beautiful native maiden embracing a clay pot by her breast waiting for Chinese junks that regularly trade with the locals. The cook was mesmerized by the beauty of the maiden that made him exclaim “Ay caramba! Que Hermosa estos indigena mujer.” (Wow! What a beautiful native woman.) To be able to talk with the maiden the cook bought a small earthen jar, paying her with a silver peseta. As if hypnotized by the beauty of the maiden, he went back aboard the ship forgetting all about his task to inquire about the name of the village.
On board, one of the missionaries drawing the map of the area asked the cook “¿Te has preguntado el nombre de el aldea” (Have you asked the name of the village?) As if awakened from a very deep trance, the cook exclaimed, “¡Caramba” and dropped the earthen jar he just bought. The Spanish priest went back to his map and wrote “Caramba” but inadvertently with the Spanish letter “ele (L)” instead of an “ere (R)” and drew the image of an earthen jar on the map to mark the area. Thus the name Calamba and its symbol came into being.
