Deserving Grace

by Sonny Coloma

This article was originally published in Mr. Sonny Coloma's column, VECTOR, in the Business World Online on May 22, 2009 (Manila time). He has given Barangay OFW his kind permission to re-publish this article. You may reach him at sonny_coloma@yahoo.com

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"The people deserve the kind of government they want" is a timeless maxim on democracy. If we choose wisely and well, we may yet deserve to have a national leader like Isabela Gov. Ma. Grace Cielo Magno Padaca who was honored by the Ramon Magsaysay Memorial Foundation as its 2008 awardee for outstanding public service.

"When I was elected governor in 2004," she told members of the Financial Executives Institute of the Philippines (FINEX) the other day, "I thanked God, saying, ‘Lord I was only joking. I did not expect you to take me seriously!’ "

But after 40 years of the Dy family’s hegemony, voters in Isabela chose wisely and well. Against the three Gs — guns, goons, and gold — they elected a polio-stricken broadcaster as their new leader.

Thus did Ms. Grace complete the transition from 1) CPA -- Certified Public Accountant (she graduated magna cum laude in BS Accountancy from Lyceum University) to 2) CPA -- Courageous Public Announcer (14 years as a broadcaster with Radio Bombo), and finally, to 3) CPA -- Competent Public Administrator (second-term governor of Isabela and Magsaysay laureate).

She was reelected in 2007, with a slimmer winning margin, but she felt vindicated. "This was sweeter than when I first won," she said, "because the people reelected me on the basis of my performance, and not anymore on my promises."

With prudent fiscal management, Isabela was able to pay off more than 80% of its more than half-billion-peso debts to the Land Bank, Philippine National Bank, and DBP.

She increased farm productivity by providing subsidies to rice and corn farmers. Isabela is the largest corn-producing province and the second largest rice producer. Her administration was also able to enroll more than 100,000 Isabelinos in PhilHealth so that they now enjoy medical insurance benefits.

She has introduced transparency and accountability. Awards of contracts and release of checks to contractors are publicized in the provincial capitol. Businesspersons and investors have found it profitable to do business and invest in the province because they need not pay bribes or incur unnecessary costs due to corrupt practices of government officials. She urged people to report to her directly any anomalies in government transactions.

But the road to the governorship was rough, bumpy, and fraught with danger. She was immobilized by polio at the age of three.

Her parents, both educators, gave her many books to read. She recalls reading stories about honesty, industry, truth, and fairness — and these filled her mind with positive thoughts and inspired her to dream of an auspicious future.

One of her dreams was to be a radio announcer, a job where she could be heard even if not seen. She went on to join Bombo Radyo where she had a daily three-hour program from Monday to Saturday. Her focus was "the abusive way by which resources of government were being squandered" by political "gremlins" that "seemed to forget that power is not theirs as a birthright."

Instead of being frustrated about not being able to do anything about irregularities that were being committed openly, she decided to seek public office.

"At least," she mused, "even if I lose, I will have peace of mind." She lost in 2001 and ran again in 2004, aware that she could lose then and probably lose two or three more elections before making significant headway in her crusade for good government.

She had an epiphany: "If fear is contagious, courage is also contagious." She urged her province mates to overcome their fear:

"Huwag kayong maawa sa akin dahil ako’y isang pilay at mahina. Maawa kayo sa inyong mga sarili at sa inyong mga anak kung wala kayong magawa kahit mas malakas at masigla ang inyong katawan kaysa sa akin."

("Don’t pity me because I am paralyzed and weak. Have mercy on yourselves and on your children if you can’t do anything despite the fact that you are healthier than I am.")

"What they saw in me was not my weakness, but my strength," she recalls.

Another important realization on her part is that, "People in government wield tremendous power. With just one signature, I could mobilize millions in pesos in resources. If used judiciously, political power may be harnessed to empower people and lift them from poverty."

Thus, she urged the executives in the audience to go into public service themselves, or encourage those who they know can become competent public servants.

Her speech followed a pitch for voter education especially among the youth. "But if the educated voters do not have credible choices among the candidates, even your best efforts may come to naught," she said.

"Those who think themselves to be too smart to run for public office are doomed to be governed by those who are too dumb. Elect the right people," was her spirited pitch. "Look at me," she said, "I am the embodiment of the power of the people expressed through the ballot."

When asked about her biggest asset and her worst liability, her replies elicited warm applause. She said that her staffers call her "Excel Governor" because she always required spreadsheets depicting relevant information and figures, especially when she deals with requests for assistance from barangay officials. Her attention to details (a discipline she acquired as an accountant) enables her to allocate scarce resources judiciously according to the real needs of her constituents.

But she longs for the gentler and kinder days when, as a private citizen, she received abundant care and attention from friends.

She plods on with great courage and determination. When she first won, only three out of 36 mayors supported her; now, the ratio is reversed. Only three have not reached out to her and two of these are members of the political dynasty that she ousted from power.

She is mindful of the need to build common ground even among erstwhile adversaries. "Maybe my being a dispassionate accountant is also one of my strengths; I never take differences personally against anyone." Instead of wooing political rivals, she said she would rather focus on serving the needs of her province mates.

When will we ever deserve the grace of having a national leader (president, vice president or senator) in the mold of Governor Grace Padaca?

Only when we have the courage to elect competent and dedicated public servants like her — and reject the empty enticements of well-entrenched politicians who have all brought our country and us on the road to perdition.

Comments may be sent to sonny_coloma@yahoo.com

If you would like to send a message to Gov. Grace Padaca you can text her at +63-919-3533-222 or send an email to kayanatin@yahoo.com

Alert OFW Lady Foils NAIA ‘Magician’

by Flori Tuazon
Sweden

Her mother had been sick so my wife Marilyn went home to the Philippines on April 9, 2009. Marilyn’s arrival at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) was uneventful.

She was overjoyed the moment she saw the smiling face of our daughter Melanie. Melanie who has recently learned how to drive had come to fetch her mother from NAIA.

My wife Marilyn spent most of her short visit caring for her sick mother and playing with our young grandchildren.

Time flew and Marilyn had to depart the Philippines on April 26, 2009. Melanie took her mother to NAIA where they said bitter-sweet goodbyes and embraced each other tightly and lovingly.

After checking in at the airline counter, Marilyn proceeded to the Bureau of Immigration area for the usual passport and visa check. She chose to line up behind a counter manned by Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’

The name of the immigration officer rang an alarm bell in Marilyn’s head and she wanted to change lanes. But she would have to go to the end of a kilometric line, so she stayed put.

Marilyn keeps her passport in a leather passport wallet with a zipped-up side pocket. Before leaving her mother’s house on that day, she put some dollar bills in the fabulous amount of US$70.00 in the zipped-up side pocket of her leather passport wallet.

Marilyn prayed that her transaction with Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ would be uneventful. And so it was, she thought. But she was wrong.

From the immigration counter, Marilyn went directly to her boarding gate. A few minutes after settling down in the departure lounge, she felt thirsty and wanted to buy bottled water. She took her passport wallet from her handbag to pay for the bottle of water. To her embarrassment, there wasn’t any dollar bill in the zipped-up side pocket of her passport wallet. It was empty.

After apologizing to the sales clerk, she sat down and collected her thoughts. As sure as she was sitting there at the NAIA, she knew that she had put US$70 in the zipped-up side pocket of her passport wallet.

Who else aside from her had access to her passport wallet? Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’!!!

Marilyn rushed out of the departure lounge to go back to the desk of this NAIA ‘magician.’ She nearly bumped into the duty airport police officer whom she promptly asked for assistance. Together, they approached Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’

Mr. NAIA ‘Magician’ feigned innocence at first. But my wife Marilyn stepped on her gas pedal, so to speak, and screeched and screamed and shrieked! Soon, a crowd gathered around the desk of Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’

Mr. NAIA ‘Magician’ came to the rescue of his invisible twin, Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’ He pretended to look for the US dollar bills among his things, then bent down and – surprise! – found the fabulous amount of US$70.00 on the floor. He gave it back to my wife with a sheepish grin.

Mr. Regalado Medalla, the Duty Immigration Supervisor, noticed the commotion and approached the desk of Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’ Mr. Medalla asked my wife, the duty airport police officer, and Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ to come with him to the Immigration Office in the airport.

My wife Marilyn argued that it was impossible for her dollar bills to fall out of her passport wallet because they were inside the zipped-up side pocket. Accusing Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ of theft, Marilyn insisted that her complaint be written down in the airport police blotter.

Mr. Regalado Medalla, the Duty Immigration Supervisor, promised Marilyn that the Immigration Office would pursue the matter and would not let Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ off the hook. Mr. Medalla advised Marilyn to follow up her complaint.

As Marilyn was leaving the Immigration Office to catch her flight, Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ clasped his hands on his chest and begged Marilyn to have pity on him. He might lose his job.

As Christians, my wife and I do pity Immigration Officer ‘Mukhang-Dolyar.’ We don’t want him to lose his job. But he doesn’t deserve his job as an immigration officer at the NAIA. Surely, there are many upright men and women who can be recruited for the job Mr. ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ will lose.

Since Mr. ‘Mukhang-Dolyar’ is gifted with sleight of hand, he will surely find a niche as a clown and magician in children’s parties!

Efren Peñaflorida: Kariton Klasrum (onli in da Pilipins)

"I always tell my volunteers that you are the change that you dream and I am the change that I dream. And collectively we are the change that this world needs to be."

This is quoted from the CNN Story entitled, "Pushcart classes help break gang chain."

Efren Peñaflorida,27,founded Dynamic Teen Company in Cavite City in 1997. The teen volunteers take the Kariton Klasrum to unwashed, unshod, and unschooled kids in the least likely learning environments such as public markets, cemeteries, slums, and prison.

Many overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) take the plunge and brave separation from their families because they feel that there is no hope in the Philippines.

After working abroad for many years, many OFWs would like to go home for good. But the bleak socioeconomic situation and unstable political conditions stop them. It's a hopeless situation, they say.

Has Kuya Ef , as the kids call him, ever thought of becoming an OFW? Would he apply as an office clerk in a Saudi company? or a bellboy in a Dubai hotel? or a teacher in Singapore?

Probably not. Kuya Ef has found his 'acres of diamonds' right there in the midst of misery where he lives. As a teacher myself, I am humbled by Efren's selfless example.

Fellow OFWs, let's take heart. We have many more skills and many more resources than Efren and his teen volunteers.

We need not be afraid of going home sooner or later. Let's remember Efren's words, "You are the change that you dream, and I am the change that I dream..."

A Room for my Mom

by Anthony Diala
People’s Republic of China

I grew up with a happy family. My father was a policeman and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. My childhood days are still fresh in my mind. Though we lived in a small house in Pampanga, I remember how happy we were. I remember the joy I felt whenever my Mom would give me my baon of around 50 centavos (that was in 1979). And I would spend most of it on kakaning-kalamay and tibok-tibok (local delicacies of Pampanga).

Amidst our simple life, my Mom and Dad would always have visitors in our house. Most of them would be asking for help -- either relatives or strangers whom I had never seen in my life. But my parents were generous to a fault. Don’t get me wrong. As a grown-up child, I admire the generosity of my parents. I remember my Mom sacrificing our own needs just to lend something to our needier relatives and friends.

Needless to say, it was my Mom’s relatives in the U.S.A. who sustained most of our expenses in school. My siblings and I went to a private institution. My Dad’s salary as a policeman was just enough to pay for our monthly food expenses; nothing more, nothing less.

When I was in third year high school, my daily expenses and those of my brother and sister had become a financial burden to Dad and Mom. Though an uncle of ours paid for our tuition fees, my parents had to take care of the expenses for projects and many school activities.

And so Mom decided to work abroad. But Mom had never held a job and had never been away from us. Besides, she was only a high school graduate. What kind of job could she qualify for?

Dad told me that she would work as a domestic helper in a Chinese family in Hong Kong. But before this decision was made, I recall that my parents tried to engage in export. However, it did not succeed, though I witnessed how my parents gave their best effort to their fledgling export business.

So it did come to pass. Mom flew to Hong Kong to work as a domestic helper while Dad continued his work as a policeman. At this stage, my brother, sister, and I had to make drastic adjustments in our lifestyle. We were forced to cook our food and wash our clothes whenever Dad could not come home due to red alerts and other police operations.

It was a painful adjustment and a rude awakening. We missed Mom. Terribly. We never appreciated her presence. When she was around, we ate our meals, put on our uniforms, and went to school without bothering about the logistics of running a home. Most of all, we missed Mom’s loving presence. We missed the presence of two happy parents.

Dad tried to cope. Even though he had just come home from an all-night police operation, he would wash our clothes by hand (we didn’t have a washing machine then). I felt sorry for Dad. Many a night, I would see him lie awake. Then he’d get up at dawn, silent, absent-minded, and looking out of the window at nothing. I knew he missed Mom so much.

After a difficult year of adjustment, we thought Mom would be able to come home. We were sorely disappointed when we learned that she needed to complete her two-year contract. We adjusted to the situation the best way we could.

I was in second year college when a shocking news devastated me. Dad just had a stroke and was in the hospital. My dad’s relatives stopped me from breaking the news to Mom. But alas, after almost two weeks of fighting for his life, Dad departed. The responsibility of breaking the news to my Mom fell on my shoulders. I couldn’t utter the words. They were words which broke my heart. My tongue felt heavy and my jaws felt tight as if I were afflicted with tetanus.

At the airport, Mom joined me and my dad’s sisters in the car. We hugged each other lifelessly. Mom had been away for more than a year; she was in shock and was speechless.

“So, Mom, how’s Hong Kong?” I asked stupidly. I knew they were not the right words to say, but I didn’t know what to say.

At the wake, Mom tried to stay strong, but I saw her escaping to an empty room and I heard her weep. My only comfort then was crying on the shoulders of my ex-girl friend (my wife). It was a very tough moment for all of us.

I was offered an option to continue Dad’s service as a policeman, but Mom refused. She was determined to start a small business out of what she can get from Dad’s death benefits but another tragedy struck. Mount Pinatubo erupted and most of the city where we lived was in complete disaster. We had to evacuate to the house of my girlfriend’s family and we stayed there for about three months. We had to spend the money from Dad’s death benefits, and only my Mom’s relatives in the US served as our lifeline.

It was a very tough decision, but Mom signed up for another contract in Hong Kong. Her employers were asking her to go back to Hong Kong, and amidst the hardship we had to endure, she accepted. She left me, my brother, and my sister to take care of ourselves in a small, rented apartment.

Mom worked abroad for the next ten years, going back to Philippines once every two years. Through all those years, she supported us with everything she earned abroad. My brother and sister had gotten married just like me, but Mom never had a chance to attend any of our weddings. We never did have a royal life, but Mom gave us her best. Come to think of it, she even gave up a happy married life for our sake.

Right now, Mom lives in the US. Her relative’s petition for her has been finally approved. Ironically, she has to continue working for a family in America. Life is tough as well. Up to now, just like my uncle who sent us to school, Mom still sends financial support to my brother and sister.

How can we repay them in return?

I promised Mom that she would never live in any home for the aged. As my tribute to her, when I finally build my home, she will have a room in it and I will support her in return.

Not that I must pay her back for what she has given us all her life. In fact, I can never repay her for what she has given up. But I want her to know that she is very special to me. It was she who carried me in her womb for nine months – I owe my life to her. She invested the best years of her life in me and my siblings. Selflessly, she gave us her all so that we can have a better future…

Copyright © 2008 to Barangay OFW. All rights reserved.

Eugenia and Evelyn: Fellow OFWs

Eugenia Baja and Evelyn Milo were both Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs).

According to a Bulatlat news report, Eugenia Baja, 24, left the Philippines for Saudi Arabia on May 6, 2007. She went back home on June 12, 2008 in a cargo box. She was deployed by Aisis International Manpower, Inc. as a domestic helper although she had signed a contract as a patient server.

The cause of Eugenia’s death was uncertain. First, it was reported by the Department of Foreign Affairs (DFA) of the Philippine government that she had died of an illness. But later, the DFA claimed that she had committed suicide by hitting her head with bathroom tiles.

A Philippine Daily Inquirer report headlined its story that the family of Evelyn Milo, 24, did not believe her alleged suicide in Abu Dhabi, UAE on August 9, 2008. Her remains were flown back to the Philippines on August 19, 2008.

Evelyn, a saleslady in Abu Dhabi, allegedly jumped off from a building to her death. But her family told reporters that her body bore marks of foul play. They pointed out that if she had really jumped off from a tall building, her body wouldn’t be intact any more.

Mrs. Thelma Milo, Evelyn’s mother, protested indignantly that Bright International Manpower, the agency which recruited Evelyn, added insult to injury by offering her three hundred pesos!

Senator Manny Villar heard and immediately heeded Mrs. Thelma Milo’s heart-rending appeal for help on QTV Channel 11 so that she could bury her daughter. By inference, one could conclude that the DFA and the Overseas Workers Welfare Administration (OWWA) had been sleeping on the job. It is a reputation both offices do not endeavor to change.

Evelyn will be buried today, Saturday, August 30, at the Makati South Cemetery.

As an OFW myself, my heart goes out to Eugenia and to Evelyn. As a mother, I feel Mrs. Thelma Milo’s grief, indignation, and unspeakable pain.

If we had known one another, what would I have told Eugenia and Evelyn? What could I tell other women out there in Saudi Arabia, Abu Dhabi, Lebanon, Japan, Italy, Singapore, Israel, Hong Kong, etc.?

What must I tell everyone back home in the Philippines?

The OFW dream is not for everyone. For some, the OFW dream is a nightmare which choke them in their sleep. A new day never dawns for them. They leave the Philippines dreaming of a good life, but they come back with battered bodies, broken spirit, and shattered dreams.

Stop being a victim!

Stop being a victim of recruitment agencies, government offices, and foreign employers. Stop working as domestic helpers or whatever euphemism it’s called.

Stay in the Philippines!

Better be a poor mouse in your own country than a slave or an object in a foreign land!

Manny Villar leads 17 outstanding entrepreneurs

by Domini M. Torrevillas
"From the Stands," Philippine Star

This article was originally published in the Philippine Star on August 7, 2008 (Manila time). Ms. Torrevillas has given Barangay OFW her kind permission to re-publish this article. She is a columnist of the Philippine Star, a leading broadsheet in the Philippines. You may reach Ms. Torrevillas at dominimt2000@yahoo.com.

Sen. Manny Villar gave the awards to the country’s 17 outstanding entrepreneurs over the weekend at what is now called Laurel Mansion on Shaw boulevard, Mandaluyong City, over the weekend. The awards were a centennial gift of the Nacionalista Party dubbed Pondo sa Sipag, Puhunan sa Tiyaga.

The awardees came from different regions across the country and chosen from thousands of entries, and each of them received P100,000 and a statuette. Senator Villar, who is president of the Nacionalista Party, said, “We give due recognition to our entrepreneurs who have exemplified the Filipino spirit of excellence and resilience in their respected fields even amid trying times.”

The party and the Sipag at Tiyaga Foundation joined hands to realize the party’s vision of propelling entrepreneurs through the Pondo sa Sipag initiative. It was at the party’s 100th year celebration held at the Philippine International Convention Center in November last year that the nationwide search for the most promising and innovative entrepreneurs was launched.

The winners, coming from different regions of the country, are: Sarah Dabucon and Margarita Allado from Region 1; Albino Francisco, Calma Arcala, Albert Dulnuan, Elizabeth Africano and Solomon Maylem from Region 2; Pacifico dela Cruz from Region 3 and Antonia Villanueva from Region 4; Marianne Olano from Region 5; Roland Madera from Region 6; Lucresia Saga from Region 7; Elizabeth Rafal from Region 12; Ernesto and Alicia Paglinawan from the CARAGA Region, and Marie Saclag and Regina Mado from CAR.

Now, why am I saying that the senator headed the 17 outstanding entrepreneurs? The reason is that he embodies the traits of sipag (industry) and tiyaga (patience), among others. At the awards dinner, he proudly recounted his journey from a seafoods vendor in Tondo to office employee to distributor of gravel and sand to builder of possibly the country’s biggest number of low-cost and middle-cost housing projects, and although he did not say it, to become one of the most wealthy of the country’s legislators. He said that what he has become has been due to industry, patience, humility and innovativeness.

At the awards dinner, the winners were given cash awards of P100,000 each, to encourage them by providing them with additional capital. As Senate President Villar told the audience that packed the historic Laurel mansion, “We expect their (the awardees) feats in this nationwide search will serve to inspire our countrymen to follow their lead and take the path of entrepreneurship to spur the economy.”

Due to space constraints, I’m writing very brief sketches on how the entrepreneurs started their businesses. They share similar experiences of facing difficulties and making their businesses grow — from very little capital.

* * *

A native of Binamar, Banna, Ilocos Norte, Sarah Dabucon’s husband abandoned her and their three children. In 2002, with a seed capital of P5,000, she started a home-based enterprise producing rice coffee and soya coffee. Her business, SCUFYND (an acronym of the three names of her sons), is now a success, netting P308,688 last year.

With an initial capital of P10,000, Margarita Allado, once a domestic helper in Hong Kong, put up a small sari-sari store in Currimao, Ilocos Norte. Her business, which she and her husband run, has expanded to include a fish cage business, cattle-fattening, swine production, and rice and vegetable farming.

From Region 2 comes the winner, Albino Francisco, of Maura, Aparri, Cagayan. His small refrigeration and airconditioning shop, is used by TESDA students for their training. His 25 years in the business may not have much financial reward, but it has helped him and his wife raise their family.

No. 4 awardee Calma O. Arcala, a graduate of agriculture from Benguet State University in Mt. Province, and her husband started their mushroom culture business with an initial capital of P85,000. Cali’s Mushroom Farm in Solano, Nueva Vizcaya, netted them P190,000 in 2007.

Albert Dulnuan, an Ifugao by birth, is a retired teacher, a former principal of a public high school, and a former municipal councilor. He started the A.B. Dulnuan Rattan Seedling Nursery and Plantation, which raises rattan seedlings at an average of 100,000 seedlings each year. Clients include farmers and provincial governments, and Albert’s farm is being used as a venue for practicum on rattan propagation by agriculture students.

At age 56, Elizabeth Franco Africano, a school teacher, and her two sisters opened Franco’s Café in Cauayan City. The café introduced the first Italian, Mexican and Mediterranean cuisine in the city, and meals without rice consisting of pasta, pizza, salads and deli-sandwiches as well as local delicacies. The café’s success gave way to social responsibility by its employing city health volunteer workers as part-time sales ladies in its outlet at the Pasalubong Center, and segregating and recycling waste materials in its good environment program.

* * *

Dr. Solomon Maylem of Malvar, Santiago City, a veterinary doctor by training, runs an edible mushroom business which earns him P10,000 a day. In his farm he also raises super sweet corn, giant tomatoes, sorghum and lettuce and high variety fruits and vegetables. He has adopted the slogan, FAITH, meaning Food Always in the Home.

From Region 3 is winner Pacifico dela Cruz, 54, a native of Plaridel, Bulacan, who started his itikan (wild-duck poultry) with only 185 ducklings. At present he has more than 3,000 ducks in his farm. His itlog na maalat is very popular for its outstanding taste.

(This article has a second part. As of post time, however, it is not yet available. Ed.)

Country Mouse & OFW Mouse

by Carmelita C. Ballesteros
Singapore

Country Mouse: Hello, cousin! How are you? How’s life in Singapore?

OFW Mouse: Hello, cousin! I’m fine. I’m going home soon.

Country Mouse: Would you lend me the money I need for the placement fee?

OFW Mouse: No, I can’t. I haven’t saved that much.

Country Mouse: Then why are you coming home?

OFW Mouse: Because I don’t want to be killed and raped like Fatima Maulana.

Country Mouse: Who is she?

OFW Mouse: Don’t you listen to the news? She was a domestic helper in Kuwait. She was from Carmen, Cotabato.

Country Mouse: Silence…

OFW Mouse: Hello, cousin. Are you still there?

Country Mouse: Yes… I don’t know what to do.

OFW Mouse: Stay where you are. Stay with your husband and children.

Country Mouse: But my husband is jobless.

OFW Mouse: My husband was jobless, too.

Country Mouse: Does he have a job now?

OFW Mouse: Yes, he’s driving a taxi.

Country Mouse: How much does he earn?

OFW Mouse: Five hundred pesos a day, net. That’s three thousand a week, twelve thousand a month.

Country Mouse: But my husband doesn’t know how to drive.

OFW Mouse: Your husband can cook very well. He makes the best kilawing dilis (fresh anchovies marinated in calamansi and other spices) and the best crispy pata (deep-fried pork leg).

Country Mouse: But I’ve signed a promissory note at the recruitment office that I will pay the placement fee next week.

OFW Mouse: It’s just a promissory note. Just tell them that you have changed your mind.

Country Mouse: But I really want to go…

OFW Mouse: Why?

Country Mouse: The recruitment officer said I’ll be able to save enough to build my dream house, to buy a car, and to send my children to college.

OFW Mouse: That’s a lie. How much is your placement fee?

Country Mouse: Eighty thousand pesos.

OFW Mouse: How much monthly salary will you get?

Country Mouse: Three hundred fifty Singapore dollars.

OFW Mouse: When will you start getting it?

Country Mouse: After eight months.

OFW Mouse: So you’ll be able to start paying back the 80K you’re borrowing from me only after eight months!

Country Mouse: So will you lend me 80K for my placement fee?

OFW Mouse: No, I can’t. Don’t you understand?

Country Mouse: Please, cousin…

OFW Mouse: Listen to me, cousin. I spent the first 16 months of my 2-year contract here in Singapore with hardly any money to even buy my own soap. All of my salary went to the recruitment agency, and then to Mrs. Mouse Loanshark in the metro mouse village.

Country Mouse: But my husband’s cousin is doing very well in Saudi. You remember Mr. Architect Mouse, don’t you?

OFW Mouse: Of course, I do. Listen, cousin. An architect is different from a domestic helper. Architects, engineers, doctors, nurses, teachers, accountants, etc. are different from domestic helpers.

Country Mouse: But I didn’t finish college.

OFW Mouse: I did, cousin.

Country Mouse: You did? Why did you become a domestic helper?

OFW Mouse: Because I was stupid. Because I believed the sales talk of the recruitment people. Because I was blinded by my dream. Because my husband was jobless.

Country Mouse: It’s okay for you to come home because your husband has a job now. My husband works as a carpenter only once in a while. It’s not enough.

OFW Mouse: He makes the best kilawing dilis and the best crispy pata (deep-fried pork leg). He can be a cook.

Country Mouse: He applied in a newly-opened fastfood restaurant in the metro mouse village. But he failed the interview. He couldn’t speak English.

OFW Mouse: Open your own eatery. Take orders from other mouse villages. Offer home delivery service.

Country Mouse: But we have no capital.

OFW Mouse: So you’d rather be a domestic helper, an OFW mouse.

Country Mouse: Yes… I’d like to go… I’d like to…

OFW Mouse: How old are your children?

Country Mouse: The girl is four; the boy is two.

OFW Mouse: You know, my baby was only 10 months old when I left. I cried every night for two months. Now, she’s almost three. And I can never bring back the two years we’ve lost.

Country Mouse: But if I stay, my children will never be able to go to college.

OFW Mouse: I don’t know if Fatima Maulana had children. If she had, her children didn’t just lose a chance to go to school. They’ve lost their mother forever.

Country Mouse: But Fatima Maulana’s fate is different. Maybe it’s her destiny.

OFW Mouse: Destiny? We have a choice. You have a choice. Being a domestic helper is not the only choice. If you stay with your husband and children, you’d be there with them to laugh and cry together. If you stay where you are, you will have a life. Being a domestic helper is like being a slave!

Country Mouse: Silence…

OFW Mouse: Cousin… I don’t want to end up like Fatima Maulama. I want to be with my little girl. I want to raise her. I want to listen to her sing. I want to watch her dance. I want to comb her hair. I want her to sit on my lap. I want to hug her tight. I want to kiss her. I want to take care of her when she’s sick.

Country Mouse: But I want to be an OFW mouse for my children’s sake.

OFW Mouse: For your children’s sake, stay with them.

This was originally published in the Filam Weekly MegaScene, Illinois, USA on May 30, 2008. The publishers may be reached at filammegascene@aol.com

Copyright © 2008 to Barangay OFW. All rights reserved.

Love in the time of migration

This article, "Love in the time of migration," by Randy David was originally published in his column, PUBLIC LIVES, in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on June 14, 2008 (Manila time). He has given Barangay OFW his kind permission to re-publish this article. You may reach him at public.lives@gmail.com

MANILA, Philippines—One of my students, Arnold P. Alamon, has written a graduate thesis titled, “Lives on Hold: Sons of Migrant Parents.” It is based on the retrospective accounts of the six young men he interviewed on what it was like to create their own lives while their parents worked abroad.

Poignant and rich in detail, their stories are evocative snap shots of the Filipino family in transition in the era of overseas migration. They show the scars beneath the imported clothes. They articulate the gap that could not be bridged by international calls and text messages.

These are stories that no longer shock us. The improbable has become typical. They are the stuff of recent Filipino films, and they are often romanticized in songs. My particular interest in this study is the shift in the semantics of love in the family that it documents.

The substance of the parental role in the traditional family is equated with being a “good provider.” Apart from the basic necessities of food, shelter, and clothing, the assurance of a solid education up to college is generally treated as a Filipino parent’s primary obligation to his/her children.

In turn, children are expected to obey their parents’ wishes, to look after their younger siblings, to do well in school, and to take care of their parents in old age. Husband and wife are supposed to be supportive of one another in the performance of their culturally-prescribed roles as provider and home maker, respectively.

Modernity has long disturbed this traditional order, but none perhaps has turned it more upside down than the phenomenon of overseas work. It is now common for fathers to leave their children for extended and indefinite periods in order to provide for their needs. Where the man in the family cannot find a job that provides adequate income, the wife must step into the role of provider and look for work.

Today, in the typical Filipino family, the old roles have melted, and both husband and wife have to earn a living to support the growing needs of their children. But the impact of these changes on the family as a world of meanings is not as jarring as when both parents have to leave their young children behind in order to try their luck abroad.

That is when the tacit understandings that bound the Filipino family together come into question. Children, confronting the paradox of the absentee-provider, begin to miss the living presence of the parent who dutifully remits the money and the “balikbayan” boxes containing goods.

Entire studies can be conducted on the countless ways in which parents, spouses, and children desperately attempt to compensate for the physical distance that overseas work has put between them. Telecom companies have tapped into this human need in order to expand their sales of pre-paid calls and other real-time communication schemes aimed at bridging the distance.

But it takes much more to sustain the spirit of family life under these circumstances.
The young men in this study appear to have survived their parents’ absence quite well, a fact that is often celebrated as Filipino resilience. Almost all of them managed to finish college, and they all believe that living on their own somehow forced them to be strong. But an unmistakable sense of loss, often surfacing as resentment, is palpable in their accounts. One of them says, almost as if he were grieving: “My parents did not see me grow up.”

They grope for words to describe the passing of an era in which part of their lives have been sacrificed. It would however be wrong to think that only the children have suffered. I will surmise that the loss is probably at least double on the parents’ side. I say that as a parent. From the moment they were born, I have looked at my children with a wish that I could see them grow into fine human beings every step of the way.

I have perhaps exulted in their triumphs, and bled in their pain, more profusely than in my own. I think of them when I visit a nice place, or eat an unusually fine meal. I worry for their safety, and I cannot imagine not being able to recognize them in their mature years. This is what love commands us to do.

The traditional Filipino family, like the one in which I grew up, was not always good at verbalizing familial love. But it was there. I saw it in my mother’s eyes when anyone of us was unwell and in my father’s eager face whenever he would ask his children to recount their achievements in school or at work.

A word of praise said in my presence came as rarely as an open profession of love. I rejoiced when my parents gave me money or bought me a gift on my birthday, because I did not expect it. Yet I never doubted that in my parents’ scheme of things, I was someone special.

In the age of absentee parenting, the communication of love has taken the form of a steady stream of gift-giving. This however cannot compensate for the erosion of intimacy. As the sociologist Luhmann nicely put it: “Roughly speaking, one loves not because one wants gifts, but because one wants their meaning.”

We expect those we love to show us, by their actions, the depth and complexity of their inner world, not the broad practicalities of their material situation. This is true not only for lovers and spouses in long distance relationships; it applies as well to children and parents torn apart by migration.

It has been very easy to measure the economic benefits from overseas work. But I doubt if one can ever quantify what the Filipino family has given up in terms of love, or what it is doing to recover it.

Dying Filipino caregiver in Canada is being kicked out

This article by Ms. Ma. Ceres P. Doyo was originally published in her column, HUMAN FACE, in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on June 19, 2008 (Manila time). Ms. Doyo has given Barangay OFW her kind permission to re-publish this article. You may reach her at cerespd@gmail.com

Please hang in there, Mrs. Juana Tejada. We are praying for you and everyone concerned.


In my column last week on “Caregiver” the movie, I ended by saying the movie should have a sequel. Well, it’s that column piece that is having a sequel. And this is for Filipino caregiver Juana Tejada. Juana de la Cruz, the EveryOFW.

I now step aside to project the myriad voices raised on her behalf. First, let me quote portions of a stinging column piece (“Our nanny state, save for nannies,” June 11) written by Joe Fiorito for Canada’s The Star.

"Corey Glass may get to stay. He is the American deserter—call him a war resister; better still, call him a conscientious objector—who came to our country to avoid the war in Iraq."

"All parties in the House of Commons approved a motion last week urging the government to allow him and others like him to remain in Canada as permanent residents. The vote was 137-110 in favor. If the motion is not binding, it has moral force."

"He came here to save his life."

"At the same time we are kicking Juana Tejada out of Toronto and we are sending her home to die."

"Juana is from the Philippines. She came to earn a living looking after other people’s kids. She did not sneak across the border. She came to be a citizen. She followed all the rules."

"And then she got cancer."

"She must go. He might stay. There was no motion in Parliament for her. Why the hell not? Is it race? Is it class? Is it gender?"

"There are perhaps 100 war resisters living in Canada at the moment. Their numbers are too small to be of import, but their presence illustrates a principle: we keep an open door. Remember Vietnam? ..."

"We ought never to forget that nannies enrich our lives with their hard work. They raise our kids. They enable our lives of privilege. They are the working women who carry other women on their backs…"

"We offered Juana a path to citizenship if she would wipe the snotty noses of our brats. But some dim bureaucrat—in Alberta of all places, where they have the least understanding of what life is like here, and now—has decided that Juana’s illness ‘might reasonably be expected to cause excessive demand on health and social services.’…"

"She came here in 2003. She came to work. Never mind her dues, she paid her taxes. It is as simple as that. Here is another principle: we are Canadian; we do what’s reasonable."

"Juana would have earned permanent resident status when her three years were up. She did not choose to get cancer in 2006. We are giving her no choice. We are sending her home to die…"

You can read Fiorito’s entire piece by logging on to http://www.juana-tejada.info/. The petition letter addressed to Prime Minister Stephen Harper is there for anyone to sign. I was the 801st signer. There is space for your own personal message.

I personally know one of the persons behind the petition. My US-based schoolmate Mila Alvarez-Magno and her husband Oswald are trying to gather as many signatures as could be gathered before Aug. 8, the day Juana is to be sent home. Here are excerpts from the letter:

Dear Prime Minister Harper:

We, the undersigned, respectfully file this petition on behalf of cancer-stricken Juana Tejada, a Filipina caregiver, who has been ordered to leave the country by August 8 and whose application for permanent residency has been refused on the ground that her illness might pose excessive burden on the health care system.

We regard the deportation order against Tejada as no less than a death sentence, and a cruel and inhumane decision. It tarnishes Canada’s excellent international reputation as a humane and compassionate nation…

Like the thousands who hope for a better life in Canada … Tejada answered Canada’s call for caregivers and has served in Canada since 2003, separated from her husband and six siblings. She worked hard in a low-paying job that demanded more than the usual number of working hours that other working Canadians enjoy, to earn her right to become a permanent resident.

But for her medical condition, she would have been assured of permanent residency, able to sponsor her family, after the required three years of service as a caregiver under Canada’s Live-In Caregiver Program. Her cancer is a disease she did not choose to have. She might even have contracted the disease in this country. During all the three years when she was able, Tejada, in her small way, had supported the health-care system that she now desperately needs to care for her.

She is no burden to the health care system. She is being looked after by generous and compassionate doctors who are providing their services for free. She is buying her medications with the financial support of friends, neighbors, and members of her community.

Even granting that there is a cost to the system, surely, it cannot be said that in order to save a few thousand dollars in health care costs in this isolated case, Canada is prepared to suffer the ignominy of sending Tejada back to her homeland, the Philippines, a country with no socialized health care system, to die.

Caregivers like Tejada provide valuable home care services to thousands of Canadian families. They enable Canadians who use their services to lead productive lives, and to maximize their contributions to society. Unlike the thousands of refugees Canada is known to accept and protect from potential harm or death, Tejada has served this country and paid her taxes dutifully. She has more reasons to seek humanitarian protection and care from Canada than most refugees…

Canada’s greatness as a country rests, not on the stone-cold and literal application of its laws, but on the humane application of such laws and the wisdom of its national leaders in doing what is morally right….