The problem I encountered with names in old colonial Philippines was a pain in the neck.

The Regidor (Treasury Accountant) had complained constantly like a broken record to the Governor General of the impossibility of fulfilling his tax-collecting task due to the liquidity of naming conditions in the whole archipelago. There was simply no credible way of registering and validating the people and the population because of three anomalies that created confusion for his department

First, the natives were named after the area where they lived. If one lived by the seashore he was Kato Tabing Dagat. However, if Kato changed his address to the forest glen, he became Kato Ginubatan. He was the same person yet he was registered as two persons in the municipal registry book.

Second, the traditional practice was to be named as the grandson of so and so, as in Apo ni Tuliao or Apo ni Lagmay. In Onofre D. Corpuz’s book The Roots of the Philippine Nation I had come across the signature of some people written in the ancient, extant syllabary that reads: Apo ni Gagui.” If the grandfather died, the name changed to the father’s name as in Anak ni Batak, or Anak ni Tasyo.

Third, if the person had a unique characteristic, his name was a physical description of his/her person. Cross-eyed Juan was called Juang Duling. Berto had a misshapen jaw, so his name became Bertong Bukol. A little satirical ridicule happened when a very bald guy was called Kulot (Curly).

Sometimes, very cruelly, a disgusting name was given to an individual. Even names of towns did not escape this naming pattern. That is how “Cagayan” was made into a place name. In Spanish cagar means “to poo.” Cagayan means the place where to do your “number two.” Philippine American Writers and Artists President Edwin Lozada tells about his friend, a physician, whose name happens to be Dr. Cagar, or Dr. Shit. His Hispanic patients don’t want him treating their ailments.

The given surname changed when the kid grew older or if another signpost event occurred in his lifetime. Fathers, sons, brothers who belonged to the same immediate family tree had different surnames. Tracing one’s genealogy became a daunting endeavor.

Examples in the literature are very instructive about European Onomastics. The northern Europeans used the suffix “son” in their names. The son of Anders was called Anderson. Richard’s son was “Richardson.” In Spain, the son of Rodrigo became Rodriguez. Hernando’s son became Hernandez, Gonzalo’s son became Gonzalez and Fernando’s son became Fernandez.

With this in mind, Governor General Narciso Claveria, who didn't have anything better to do, asked Madrid for a list of names to be given out to the colonial subjects in the Philippines. Madrid collected all the names in all the provinces of Spain. It was called Catalogo de Apellidos.