Plastic Barrier Ads and Sari-sari Stores: Some Insights on the Changing Contours of Filipino Neighborhood Life During the Pandemic

Overview

Our lives have changed during and certainly after the pandemic, in one way or another. There may be some aspects of our lives that remained the same, but there are those that were changed and will be changed anyway. But how did this pandemic socially change our communities?

In this article, we will look at how the pandemic forced changes in the multimodal (form and content) aspect of product advertising in the form of commercial public signs. We’ll have a closer look at how language is used in these published advertising materials and what the multimodal changes can hint us about the social changes in low to middle-income neighborhoods by zooming in on sari-sari stores.

But first, let’s have a context. 

Since about ten months ago, the COVID-19 pandemic kicked economies in the knee pit and brought them down to their knees. No one has been able to recover and stand up. If anyone did, it was on all fours. All governments, with their economies at standstill, were compelled to come up with mitigation measures and strategies, which was not at all easy. What the experts have to say is not always in favor of the economic survival of their countries thus placing the governments in the middle of a tug of war although most of them tend to lean towards the latter. 

And so, the vaccine race. In record time. Countries have been eager to find a route out of the pandemic that a few of them invested a lot in developing a vaccine that will put an end to it. Recently, the developments advanced rapidly and some countries have already begun the rollout. 

Can you imagine how fast these developments are? It was only several months ago, about 9 months when the countries were just busy coming up with a term or more for a local community lockdown as their health services struggle to cope. In the United States, they either called it shelter-in-place order or stay-at-home order (same term used in Scotland); in Malaysia, it’s movement control order (MCO) or locally Perintah Kawalan Pergerakan (PKP); in Indonesia, it’s large-scale social restrictions (LSSR) or locally Pembatasan Sosial Berskala Besar  (PSBB); in Singapore, as well as in Wales and Northern Ireland, it was called a Circuit Breaker (CB); in the Philippines, it was originally Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) then Modified Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) and later General Community Quarantine (GCQ) and Modified General Community Quarantine (MGCQ) which differed in levels and scopes of restriction. Remember how the PH government refused to use the term “lockdown” due to allegations of possibly taking advantage of the situation to impose martial law in Metro Manila? 

All these cordons sanitaires are different in names and guidelines but are essentially aimed at the same objective: contain the transmission by reducing mobility by keeping the people inside their houses as much as possible. The reasons for these governments choosing these terms over “lockdown” or “quarantine” are also interestingly linguistic but will require a separate discussion. 

Aside from that, our abrupt transition to more virtual interactions led to the creation of new words or phrases such as “covidiot” which refers to those who blatantly violate minimum public health standards (MPHS). The word boomed specifically in the Philippines when Senator Kiko Pimentel who despite being classified then as a PUI (person under investigation) still went to the hospital where his wife was admitted, putting at risk the patients and the hospital staff who were there. People also came up with new meanings to already established words such as “quarantine and chill” which was derived from “Netflix and chill”, although “e-numan” which is short for electronic inuman (social liquor drinking) is more popular in the Philippines. There’s also the phrase “flatten the curve” which roughly refers to the collaborative community effort to slow down the spread of the COVID-19 virus. The phrase “social distancing”, or “physical distancing” as preferred by some for pragmatic and semantic reasons, is not new but has taken on a higher degree of importance in terms of meaning compared to previous use. The dynamism of language has never been this glaring! Well, at least not diachronically. 

Aside from this show of linguistic creativity of unprecedented level, we the laypeople are also suddenly more exposed to scientific and medical terms. In a very short time, we were compelled to learn and understand terms that we usually would frown upon when mentioned in a conversation. For instance, the difference between “epidemic” and “pandemic” has not been as clear to most of us as it is now. Unless googled, a lot of us didn’t know which is of greater range. Also, it was only during this period that some of us realized that the concept of “incubation” can also apply to viruses, and that “isolation” is not a term you can just interchange with “quarantine” for the sake of variation and display of diction in an essay, because of important differences between them. These words, among many others, are no longer jargon to a lot of us regardless of our socioeconomic status. The chances of being frowned upon when you make that “what are you talking about?” face is even higher. Does this mean that science and medicine are finally reaching the laypeople? Is healthcare democratizing? These questions are too big to be answered in this article which has very limited data but can nonetheless help us start in bringing this subject to the table by zooming in on some commercial public signs. The analysis we’re going to make here will be guided by the geosemiotics framework specifically focusing on the interconnection of the three broad systems of social semiotics: interaction order, visual semiotics, and place semiotics.

Analysis

Back in September, a sign in front of a sari-sari store (or neighborhood sundry store) in Village B in the University of the Philippines Diliman caught my attention. It is an advertisement for a local telecommunications company but not in the form of a tarpaulin but a plastic barrier with the brand logo on the top left, the hashtag “#STAYSAFE Reminders” just right beside it, most of the MPHS reminders arranged horizontally in the middle with minimalist icons above each, and a short notice of product availability in the store printed on it. I found it interesting because it serves multiple functions: for awareness (#StaySafe or MPHS reminders during the COVID-19 pandemic), to entice customers to purchase (inform passersby of the availability of prepaid load), and as additional protection for the seller/s and customers (use of plastic barrier). Its multifunctionality is very innovative although a lot of small stores elsewhere, including convenience stores such as 7-Eleven, have already installed makeshift plastic barriers made from plastic covers or if capable, acrylic sheets.

I tried to look for similar signs in other areas but it was only in December when I started seeing more of this kind of ad. Because of quarantine restrictions, I was only able to look around some parts of Metro Manila and nearby provinces such as Rizal and Bulacan. 

Some friends also sent me through Facebook their photos of protective barriers of a similar idea but for a different business or product that cover fronts of sari-sari stores, although there’s one ad that covers the front of a small pharmacy instead and another that shows ads in the form of plastic barriers for social distancing inside a jeepney in Laguna.

Photo by Michael Dimalibot:
A sari-sari store in Brgy. Townsite, Mariveles, Bataan

 

Photo by Alve Berdan:
A pharmacy along Lt. J. Francisco in Krus na Ligas, Quezon City

Photos by Michael Dimalibot:
A bakery and sari-sari store along Dahlia Avenue in West Fairview, Quezon City

Photo by Michael Dimalibot:
A sari-sari store along Republic Avenue in Brgy. Holy Spirit, Quezon City

Photo by En Paño:
A Calamba-San Pablo (Laguna) jeepney

Most of the public commercial ads we’re used to are the tarpaulin ones which come in varying sizes although most that are posted or hung in front of sari-sari stores are smaller, around A4 to A2. Many of which include promotions of new product features or upcoming raffle promos such as in the photos below. 

Businesses also utilize the space where sari-sari stores place their store names. That large space which is normally above the face of the store is the most visible to neighbors and passersby which is advantageous to brand marketing. These signages mostly contain only the logo of the sponsoring brand and the name of the store, although some similar signs include short texts about product feature promotion or a notice about product availability in the store. 

But these businesses had to adapt to the pandemic, thus the changes we noticed in the public commercial ads described above. In the following sections, we’re going to examine the elements of this new kind of advertising through the three systems of social semiotics.

Interaction order. These innovations in commercial public signs during the pandemic reflect how we now share public space with other people. The call to help slow down the spread of the virus and the consciousness to prevent our family, friends, and ourselves from contracting the disease compelled us to take actions beyond the MPHS, such as the installation of makeshift plastic barriers which some large businesses took a few levels higher. 

How is this in the context of a sari-sari store? According to Turgo, 

“...more than an economic hub, sari-sari stores also function as a social hub that connects people and acts as eyes and ears of the community through the people who make use of their services. In a sense, sari-sari stores are the community's ‘myopticon’ where people's day-to-day dealings with everyone in the community and its environs are reported and discursively brought under the gaze of the ‘entire community’” (2013).

Given this general description, interaction units that usually occur in sari-sari stores are mostly service encounters which refer to “social arrangements that occur when we procure and are delivered some service”, some may be considered conversational encounters or a unit that “has as its main focus of attention the production and the maintenance of a state of talk among a relatively small group”, and sometimes just contacts or “the fleeting social interactions that are produced by glances of mutual recognition but which are not allowed to segue into more fully developed forms such as the with or the service encounter.” (Scollon & Scollon, 2003, p.61). 

But how are these relevant to the ad or vice versa? The presence of the plastic barrier alone contributes to the gap between the seller or shopowner and the buyer/s and passersby. Aside from the cautiousness of avoiding or minimizing interactions with other people (perhaps after a glance at the safety reminders on the ad), the participants’ visibility, audibility, and hearing are obstructed which discourages prolonged conversations. If there are any, conversations may probably have become more trivial, therefore hurried and quick. The relationship among the buyers who are all on the other side of the barrier is similar. Although the plastic barrier doesn’t stand in their way, face masks and social distancing make up for the distance that can also discourage prolonged conversations.

Visual semiotics. In the sign, the interactive participants include the telecommunications network company being the productive participant, although the Department of Health (DOH) also shares some participation because three out of the four reminders printed in the middle are based on its set MPHS in the form of their BIDA Solusyon campaign. These reminders of which the meaning are further clarified by the icons are part of the text/image participants of the semiotic in-text. Like what we implied a bit earlier, not all of these reminders are based on the DOH MPHS. There are at least two that partially deviated away from the agency’s standards. These deviations however are not anything less than the MPHS thus not damaging to the country’s response to COVID-19, but they reflect an assumption of authority from the side of the productive participants thinking that they can change to amplify the safety reminders. But what motivated the decision to deviate?

Let’s take a look at the item on social distancing: I-observe ang social distancing. It is interesting to note that the difference in the recommended distance between the DOH MPHS and the ad reminder is significant; 1 meter versus 2 meters. This may have been decided on with the consideration that instant estimation of distance is not easy, or perhaps with the Filipino concept of personal space in mind. When Filipinos engage in conversations, we tend to move closer to the other participant/s in that conversation. Some external factors such as surrounding noise or hearing disabilities may affect this, but it may also be due to Filipinos’ concept of personal space (or lack thereof) as observed by the architect Augusto F. Villalon (1999) in the design of bahay-kubo (nipa hut) which he said reflects how we are traditionally communal. Edward T. Hall categorized what for him are important distances that separate people in face-to-face communication (Scollon and Scollon, 2003, p. 53):

• intimate distance (touch to 18 inches)
• personal distance (18 inches to 4 feet)
• social distance (4 feet to 12 feet)
• public distance (12 feet to 25 feet)

Filipinos’ concept of personal space seems to fall mainly under intimate distance which explains how difficult it is for many of us to refrain from removing our masks and lifting our face shields because they seem to add to the distance that we are not comfortable with. They feel like barriers that get in the way of our socialization. Doubling then the recommended distance will buy us some buffer to ensure that the safe distance is still followed while in a conversation and internally insisting that space must be lessened, to prevent virus transmission.

Magdala ng eksaktong pang bayad. This reminder about bringing exact change is not separate in the BIDA Solusyon but does fall under the I-sanitize ang mga kamay, Iwas hawak sa mga bagay because it aims to mitigate the risks of transmission through exchange of goods and money. According to the World Health Organization (2020), 

“The virus can also spread after infected people sneeze, cough on, or touch surfaces, or objects, such as tables, doorknobs, and handrails. Other people may become infected by touching these contaminated surfaces, then touching their eyes, noses or mouths without having cleaned their hands first.”

This is highly possible in sari-sari stores where exchange of items and money is the way things go. Cashless payments such as GCash and PayMaya are now more accessible even to low-income households and individuals, but it is yet to be popular enough to become a main mode of payment in sari-sari stores. Aside from avoiding more instances of touching surfaces, this will also lessen the time the buyer and the seller will have to interact with each other. This too will reduce conversations to contacts. 

These two reminders address and reflect mobility in low to middle-income neighborhoods where the ubiquitous sari-sari stores are located. We can also tell that the ads are intended for such kinds of establishments. However, an important aspect of the sari-sari store was disregarded when the ad was designed: the part where the exchange between money and the items happen. This is explained by the holes done by the shop-owners so that the ad is placed right where it can serve its purpose which is to cover most of the front of the store. Unfortunately, the holes meant the removal of an element or two of the ad. In the photos below, the QR code for the mobile application being promoted and/or one of the reminders were cut out. 

Photo by the author: The QR code had to be cut to allow for the opening.

Photo by the author: Some parts of a reminder, the caption for the QR code,
and the product availability notice were cut out to give way to the opening. 

Photo by En Paño: The icon for the fourth reminder was cut enough
to make an opening but not completely remove it. 

This photo below here though shows no makeshift hole and was placed on the side of the actual opening where the store trade happens. It shows too however that the purpose of a protective barrier between the seller and the buyer is defeated. 

Photo by the author

It was resolved a few months after by the addition of more plastic barriers from a different company. 

Photo by the author

Place semiotics. The plastic barrier ad is more indexical than symbolic as we look at it in the context of the pandemic and the location of its placement being the low to middle-income neighborhoods. During these times, a barrier became necessary at places of interaction such as that of sari-sari stores, therefore situated. Although we find it contradicting and therefore anomalous, that the ads lack the feature (opening) that allows for the smooth transaction of monetary-item exchange.

It’s also worth noting that the ad, especially the reminders code-switched between two languages: English and Filipino. 

• I-observe ang “social distancing” 
• Laging mag-suot ng “face mask”
• Ugaliing gumamit ng alcohol para ma-sanitize ang iyong kamay
• Magdala ng eksaktong pang bayad

This case of code-switching shows what has always been obvious: that the language of science and medicine is still English. The terms in English are mostly new to many of us and are difficult to inject into our culture. For instance, “social distancing.” Like we said earlier, the concepts of personal space and distance are culturally difficult for most Filipinos to comprehend which makes it necessary to quantify them. Imagine that same plastic barrier ad with reminders but without the icons above each of them. I-observe ang social distancing on its own will likely mean to its audience “a bit of distance” which is not necessarily 2 meters or even 1 meter. The productive participant which is the telecommunications company even doubled the distance to cater to that cultural dilemma and to address some kind of cognitive difficulty.

In the case of the “face mask” reminder, the two languages catered to different functions. The term “face mask” is already almost resemblant of this pandemic worldwide despite being an old term and concept, making it mostly unnecessary to translate it, although the understanding of the concept is not necessarily universal as seen from the different kinds of masks worn all over the world. It is also interesting to tackle this take on meaning but this will of course require another set of data to analyze. The point is that when we hear the term, we get a common thought. The words in Filipino “laging magsuot” (always wear) though makes the whole thing more meaningful in that they add the element of high importance that is necessarily associated with “face mask.” This then can remind buyers and passersby to not just wear a face mask but to wear it properly. 

“Sanitize” and “alcohol” are not far from this observation. Although sanitizing is not exclusive to the use of chemical products such as bleach or alcohol to get rid of pathogenic agents such as bacteria and viruses, we Filipinos seem to refer to it as such. This in effect somehow plays down the washing of hands with soap and water placing it just right under alcohol and bleach use when it comes to “sanitizing.” 

The use of these terms in English is hardly a problem except when introduced abruptly and when lacking in explanation and widespread information dissemination. The code-switching to Filipino shows this attempt to improve healthcare literacy by making the information available to more people i.e. speakers of Tagalog/Filipino. But we know how far that still is from success in terms of scope given the multilingual character of the Philippines with more than 170 languages distinguishing ethnolinguistic communities from each other. 

Our data is insufficient to make conclusions from our observations and insights about the future of public advertising during the pandemic normal and how the mobility involving sari-sari stores is affected. Nonetheless, our brief geosemiotic analysis of the innovative changes reflects how the contours of our everyday lives are being reshaped either to maintain aspects of social systems that are bound by culture or change them completely and rapidly and adapt to a new kind of normal.◼️