What are you doing after office hours on the 17th of December 2009? Do you live in the Jurong area? Please lend your presence to the observance of Simbang Gabi Singapore 2009 as a church warden at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi in Boon Lay.
As a volunteer church warden, you will help manage human traffic before, during, and after the Simbang Gabi Mass on December 17.
Please get in touch with Mr. Manny Resmeros through mobile phone +65-9277 2863. He's the conductor of the San Lorenzo Ruiz Choir and he will brief the volunteer wardens on December 13. Thirty (30) wardens are needed.
This is the eleventh (11th) year that Rev. Father Angel Luciano, CICM, a Filipino priest based at the Church of St. Michael, has tirelessly spearheaded the observance of Simbang Gabi in Singapore since 1999.
Maligayang Pasko po sa ating lahat!
Showing posts with label OFW Families. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OFW Families. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
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!
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!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
An OFW as a Philippine Tourist
by Carmelita C. Ballesteros
I worked in Singapore in 2008 without going home for a whole year. I’d feel homesick every now and then, but there was plenty of work to occupy myself… To make up for lost time, I splurged my annual leave and spent most of December 2008 with my extended family members as well as friends. One of the things we did together was tour Luzon from south to north.
It was wonderful getting re-acquainted with my grandkids as well as exploring my own country and heritage. No small thanks to my Malaysian friends Soo Fun and Michael who came to visit for a week.
Are you a stranger in the country of your birth? Are you a stranger in your parents’ or grandparents’ hometown? Do find time to tour around the Philippines. It isn’t as awful as the newspapers paint it.
True, traffic jams are everywhere in Manila and other big cities. But the strawberry jam and the ube jam of the Good Shepherd Sisters in Baguio City and Tagaytay City are enticing, tempting, and mouth-watering rewards, enough to make you exclaim, “It’s a glimpse of heaven!”
Heaven isn’t the traffic jam. It isn’t the rusty roofs of houses. Neither is it the pollution in cities. Heaven is the kindness, simplicity, and sweetness of rural folk in the countryside. Heaven is friendship and family togetherness that you can experience only in the Philippines.
Last December, my friends Soo Fun and Michael visited the Philippines. Michael actually comes and goes to Manila for business trips, but has never gone around as a tourist. His wife Soo Fun was visiting the Philippines for the first time.
Soo Fun and Michael are Malaysians who live and work in Singapore as permanent residents. I am an overseas Filipino worker (OFW) teaching in a Singaporean university.
I’m a homebody and I travel around the Philippines only when it’s an official trip. So when my friend Soo Fun came to visit as a tourist, I was a tourist myself.
My son, daughter-in-law, and sister took turns driving for us. We drove around Metro Manila, Cavite, then on to Vigan, Ilocos Sur. On the way back to Manila, we drove up to Baguio City from Vigan.
Then we did some shopping and eating in Metro Manila, drove around Tagaytay City, and finally, we went on an arts excursion to Angono, Rizal and Paete, Laguna.
Day 1, Manila. We posed in front of Jose Rizal’s monument at the Luneta Park. As Soo Fun and Michael asked questions about Jose Rizal, I began to realize my being a Filipino in a deeper sense.
Carol, Soo Fun, and Carmel in front of Rizal's monument in Luneta.Trying to explain to foreigners who Rizal was, what he did and didn’t do, and why he chose to live and die the way he had was mutually enlightening.
Our next stop was the Manila Cathedral. While a wedding ceremony was going on, the next wedding party was already waiting at the back. The Manila Cathedral is probably the most-booked church for weddings in the Philippines.
Michael, who loves doors, windows, and benches/chairs, couldn’t resist having his picture taken beside one of the wooden doors at the Manila Cathedral.
From the Manila Cathedral, we walked to Fort Santiago where Jose Rizal was incarcerated by the Spaniards. While entering the premises, we noticed security guards or patrol officers dressed as ‘guardias civiles.’ A ‘guardia civil’ was a police officer during the Spanish colonization of the Philippines.
I was most impressed with the footpath which Rizal had taken on his way to his execution from Fort Santiago to Luneta. The path had Rizal’s footsteps etched on it.
Michael observed, “Rizal wasn’t a tall man, was he? And he must have been walking slowly.”
“I guess you wouldn’t run as you head towards your execution,” I replied. Quietly, I asked myself what Rizal was thinking of as he walked towards Luneta, certain that death was waiting. Did he recite his “Mi Ultimo Adios” as he walked meditatively to Luneta?
Driving from Makati to Manila and back to Makati took the whole day. (Soo Fun and Michael stayed in a hotel in Makati.) There was a humongous traffic jam caused by the anti-Chacha rally mounted by a multi-sectoral group.
It was during this rally that Senator Mar Roxas declaimed using expletives against the Arroyo administration. He was criticized by some, but he didn’t apologize. Actually, the ordinary Filipino loved him for doing so.
Speaking of political unrest, Michael and Soo Fun narrated that Malaysia and Singapore had had its share of uncertain times, too.
Day 2, Cavite and Ilocos Sur. It was a looong 13-hour drive from Cavite in Southern Luzon to Vigan in Northern Luzon. We made several stops along the way, though.
I particularly wanted to go to Vigan so I could visit with a long-time friend, Sister Fidelisa Portillo, SPC, of the Paulinian Congregation in the Philippines. She had been inviting me and my family to visit with her in Vigan since the turn of the 21st century!
We arrived at the gate of the school where Sister Fidelisa is posted, St. Paul College of Ilocos Sur, at 12 midnight. The alert security guards immediately opened the gates and guided us to our sleeping quarters.
They were simple rooms with the basic necessities, including biscuits, mineral water, towels, soap, and shampoo. They were simple, cozy rooms with welcoming and warm curtains which were probably sewn by the nuns themselves.
Day 3, Vigan and Baguio City. Breakfast the morning after was a riotous affair with Sister Celine Santos, the president of the school, entertaining us with humorous anecdotes.
Carmel, Sr. Celine, Michael, Soo Fun, and Sr. Fidelisa.Can you imagine a breakfast of fried rice fragrant with garlic, steaming coffee, and Vigan longanisa (pork sausage) with vinegar dip in the happy company of family and friends?
It’s enough to make you feel as if you’ve had a glimpse of heaven! It sure was a happy Sunday, our reward after a long day’s drive.
What makes Vigan longanisa extraordinary? What makes the vinegar dip that goes with it a must?
Vigan longanisa is extraordinary because it’s made of lean pork, garlic, onions, black pepper, vinegar, and other ingredients. It hardly has any fat because it’s hung to dry under the sun for at least four hours.
Cooking Vigan longanisa is done by simmering it in water over low fire until the water evaporates. The casing is pricked all the while so that the remaining fat is released in which it is fried until it’s golden brown.
The vinegar dip consists of sugar cane vinegar with crushed garlic, chopped onions, ground black pepper, chili pepper, and salt. You could use tomato catsup or fresh tomatoes, but it is the vinegar dip that makes eating Vigan longanisa a supreme experience.
We said grace, then started eating and chatting. It was mostly Sister Celine Santos, SPC, talking but we didn’t mind. Her hilarious anecdotes and vivacious personality were amazing. And she’s past 70! I guess it’s the reason she looks as if she’s only 50.
Sister Celine is the president of St. Paul College of Ilocos Sur. SPCIS, for short, celebrated its 100th year in December 2005. It has had a long and illustrious presence in Ilocos Sur, molding the Ilocano youth around its charism, “The love of Christ urges us.”
(If you are interested in youth exchange or immersion programs, please email Sister Fidelisa at fidelisaportillo@yahoo.com)
After breakfast, we headed toward Bantay and Vigan, had a calesa ride, bought some souvenirs and goodies, and took pictures, of course. We went back to the school, heard Sunday mass together with the faculty and staff, and had a sumptuous lunch at the Sisters’ convent.
At 1:00 p.m., we were on our way back to Manila. My son decided to take a side trip to Baguio City by taking the Naguillian Road in Bauang, La Union. It was a smooth ride up although there were zigzag stretches of road to negotiate. The mountains, the clouds, the fog, and the setting sun were spectacular views to behold.
Baguio City was cold and windy! It was also unbelievably crowded. There were people everywhere – shopping, walking, eating, taking pictures, driving – all enjoying the 15 degree Celsius temperature of Baguio City.
After a quick supper, we headed down to Manila and arrived a little after midnight. It was Monday morning already. We dropped off Michael and Soo Fun at their hotel in Makati, agreeing to meet later in the afternoon to go shopping for pearl jewelry in Metro Manila.
Day 4, Manila. Pearl jewelry? I couldn’t believe the range of fabulous designs, colors, and affordability of pearl jewelry in the Philippines. For example, a really elegant necklace can be yours at the price of USD20!
Soo Fun loved pearl jewelry and had a grand time shopping for pearl presents as well as pearl keepsakes for herself. She and my daughter-in-law shopped till the shops closed!
(With her husband in tow, Soo Fun had another pearl shopping spree! No, she didn’t re-sell them. She gave most of them to family and friends in Singapore and Malaysia as Christmas presents.)
Day 5, Tagaytay City. Since Tagaytay is only an hour and a half away from Manila, we spent the next day exploring the hills and valleys and nooks of Tagaytay. My sister picked up Soo Fun from the hotel, then met up with my daughter-in-law and me. Driving up to Tagaytay, we were excited that we were having a girls’ outing.
Tagaytay was cool and windy although less cold than Baguio. Because it was a little cloudy, our view of Taal Volcano was not as sharp as on a clear day. It was also too windy to stay outdoors and contemplate the volcano in the middle of the lake.
The pictures we snapped showed us clutching our shawls and sweaters with our hair being blown by the wind in every direction. Funny pictures they were and I’d rather you didn’t see them.
Day 6, Angono, Rizal and Paete, Laguna. We planned to go to Villa Escudero in San Pablo City, but we gave it up after learning that there was no cultural show on a weekday. Instead, we decided to have an art excursion to Angono, Rizal and Paete, Laguna.
My son insisted that we go to Angono, Rizal. He fondly remembers his art excursion to Angono when he was a college student at San Beda College in Mendiola, Manila.
Angono, Rizal is a small town by a river. Its narrow streets and slow-moving traffic are not exactly encouraging. However, it’s also the home of many artists such as Nemesio Miranda and Jose Blanco.
My daughter-in-law had attended art lessons by Nemesio Miranda, popularly known as Nemiranda. So our first stop was his home cum gallery or the Nemiranda Arthouse. The entrance fee was less than one US dollar. It was worth every centavo we paid.
Nemiranda’s art house is like a typical Filipino house made of wood, bamboo, and concrete. But it’s atypical because it’s a house where an artist lives with his wife and children. At the end of the gallery, some pieces were for sale. Soo Fun fell in love with a simple painting of a small house in a farm. It exuded innocence, purity, tranquility, and joy.
We negotiated for a good price and left with the painting bubble-wrapped, ready to travel by air.
Our next stop was Jose Blanco’s Family Museum. My son said the Blanco house he had visited during his college days was a sprawling bahay-kubo which looked like an informal art school where everybody was painting in every corner.
Today, the sprawling bahay-kubo has been replaced by a concrete building which serves as the museum as well as home of the Blancos.
Jose Blanco, a fine arts graduate of the University of Santo Tomas in 1955, was a fisherman’s son. Jose himself fished to raise his tuition money. He devoted his art to the depiction of rural life in Angono and around the Philippines. An art critic, Alice Guillermo, has labeled Blanco’s murals of rural scenes as ‘folk realism.’
His murals are like blown-up photo snapshots as regards faithfulness to details. In a mural depicting a town fiesta, each face was unique and individual. A mural showing a garbage dump made you cringe at the sight of flies and worms.
The most amazing thing about Jose Blanco and his family is that his seven children as well as his wife all paint! None of them had formal painting lessons. They didn’t need to. They have had the best teacher – Jose Blanco himself.
The time we spent together as family and friends inside the museum was priceless. The entrance fee, a little over one US dollar, was embarrassingly cheap! Our guide, a cousin of the Blanco children, had asked us not to take pictures because the flash of the camera could damage the paintings. We complied willingly.
Hungry after two art stops, we hurried to the nearby Balao-Balao Restaurant. It turned out to be another art house. While waiting for our order, we toured the gallery on the ground and second floors.
I was so taken by a wooden sculpture which looked like a blanket cradle from afar. Upon inspection, it was a mother rocking her child to sleep and it was aptly titled, “Sa Ugoy ng Duyan.”
Soon enough, our table was laden with food. Starving, we had ordered food fit to feed a battalion: chicken sour stew, frog legs, deer meat, and the restaurant’s specialty. We were both amazed and delighted when a huge wok (talyasi, in Tagalog) was wheeled in by two waiters. The freshly-cooked rice was topped with chicken and pork adobo, shrimps, mussels, salted red egg, and vegetables.
We ate till we were stuffed. In addition to the main courses, we had soda drinks, bottled water, ice cream, and halu-halo, a concoction of sweets with milk and shaved ice. We couldn’t believe that the banquet which fed six adults and two kids, plus the gallery tour, cost us as little as USD36.00!
Monday, November 24, 2008
2008 Simbang Gabi Singapore
by Carmelita C. Ballesteros
Singapore
Simbang Gabi is one of the unique characteristics of a Philippine Christmas. Simbang Gabi means evening mass or night worship. When I was a girl back in the 20th century, my folks called it misa de gallo. It’s a Spanish term which literally means dawn mass – a mass that is celebrated at four in the morning as the roosters crow at dawn.
In preparation for Christmas, the nine-day Simbang Gabi is held in Catholic churches, cathedrals, and chapels all over the country. It begins on the 16th and culminates on the 24th of December.
In the Philippines, many churches in the provinces celebrate the Holy Mass as early as five in the morning on a daily basis. So a misa de gallo at 4:00 a.m. isn’t extraordinary. It is neither inconvenient for rural folk who go to bed early and get up early.
But for me, it’s always been a huge effort. As a girl, I was always teased as a sleepyhead. I loved to sleep, and it was a chore waking me up.
Sleep would be heavy on my eyelids. The chilly breeze of dawn would keep me curled up under my thin cotton blanket. But my mother’s insistent invitation to rise and shine would become my father’s intimidating threat of a day deprived of puto-bumbong and bibingka! So I’d perk up and jump up and say, “Wait! I’m coming!”
Sleep would be heavy on my eyelids. The chilly breeze of dawn would keep me curled up under my thin cotton blanket. But my mother’s insistent invitation to rise and shine would become my father’s intimidating threat of a day deprived of puto-bumbong and bibingka! So I’d perk up and jump up and say, “Wait! I’m coming!”
As children, my siblings and I went to the Simbang Gabi not in anticipation of Jesus Christ’s birthday, but in anticipation of breakfast after the Holy Mass. Around the church would be food stalls selling puto-bumbong and bibingka which came with steaming cups of bottomless tea.
It was an annual tradition I grew up with. It is a Christmas tradition most Filipinos grow up and grow old with. It is a special season for family togetherness – going to church, hearing mass, and sharing a simple breakfast of native delicacies.
Living abroad as an overseas Filipino worker (OFW), I’ve experienced many Christmases without Simbang Gabi. In Taiwan where I taught in a university, there were Christmases when I found myself teaching on Christmas. It was an ordinary working day for the Taiwanese.
Last year, I celebrated my first Christmas in Singapore. To my delight, there is Simbang Gabi in Singapore! It’s a multicultural city state which celebrates Chinese, Malay, Muslim, and Christian holidays.
Last year, I celebrated my first Christmas in Singapore. To my delight, there is Simbang Gabi in Singapore! It’s a multicultural city state which celebrates Chinese, Malay, Muslim, and Christian holidays.
Rev. Father Angel Luciano, CICM, a Filipino priest based at the Church of St. Michael, has made it his mission to spearhead the observance of Simbang Gabi since 1999. This is the 10th year that Father Angel is leading the Filipino flock in Singapore in remembering Simbang Gabi in the Philippines.
Ten churches are taking part in this year’s 10th anniversary of Simbang Gabi Singapore. All Christmas novena masses will be held at 8:00 p.m. starting at the Church of St. Anthony of Padua on December 15. Then the Simbang Gabi will move to the Church of Our Lady Star of the Sea on December 16.
Each night, the Simbang Gabi will be celebrated in a different church with an active Filipino community. (See schedule below.)
Fortunately, there are many Filipinos in the church I go to, the Church of St. Francis of Assisi on Boon Lay Avenue in the west side of Singapore. The Legion of Mary, headed by Yolanda Ligon of San Miguel Bulacan, is taking charge of the preparations for the Simbang Gabi which it will host on December 20.
A sister organization of the Legion of Mary is the San Lorenzo Ruiz Choir which sings regularly during the 7:30 a.m. mass every week. Thus, the San Lorenzo Ruiz Choir has been tasked to prepare a very special repertoire for the Simbang Gabi.
Led by Manny Rosmeros, and accompanied on the organ by Marissa Esguerra, the choir has been rehearsing since September Christmas carols to be sung before the mass. It includes old-time favorites: Hark, the Herald Angels Sing; Joy to the World; Ang Pasko ay Sumapit; Noche Buena; Pasko na Naman; Himig Pasko; Silent Night; etc.
The choir’s main repertoire for the Simbang Gabi promises to be a marvelous treat of original Filipino Christmas compositions by Jesuit priests Manoling Francisco and Rene Oliveros as well as Rene Gozum. The arrangement is by Norman Agatep.
For the entrance hymn, the choir will sing Gumising. Then they will sing Unang Alay and The Seed during the offertory. As the congregation receives communion, the choir will sing Emanuel, Paglamig ng Hangin, and Di Ba’t Pasko’y Pag-ibig.
The recessional hymn will be Pasko Na, a happy song which rejoices in the birth of the Infant Jesus.
To cap the jubilation, everyone will be treated to arroz caldo (chicken porridge) and pansit bihon (sautéed rice noodles) after the mass. Food is absolutely free for everyone courtesy of Father Angel, the Legion of Mary, and their generous donors and sponsors.
On regular Sundays, about 500 to 600 parishioners attend each of the three scheduled masses at the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. On the evening of the Simbang Gabi, more than 2,000 people squeeze themselves into the church and the small parking lot in the churchyard.
People usually come one hour early in order to find a seat inside the church. Those who come late stand outside the church and listen to the mass through loud speakers.
Don’t they complain? No; they’re first in the queue to the arroz caldo!
Simbang Gabi Schedule (8:00 p.m. nightly)
1. Dec. 15, Monday. Church of St. Anthony of Padua, 25 Woodlands Avenue 1. Bus No.912 or 912E (Berth 12). Contact Francis/Tony at tel. no. 97461255/91052930.
2. Dec. 16, Tuesday. Church of Our Lady Star of the Sea, 10 Yishun Street 22. Bus No. 804, alight at 2nd bus stop. Contact Lorena/Vivian at tel. no. 97414646/93226438.
3. Dec. 17, Wednesday. Church of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, 24 Highland Road. Bus No. 24, 60, 70, 76, 103, 136, 147, 156, and 317.
4. Dec. 18, Thursday. Church of Christ the King, 2221 Ang Mo Kio Avenue 8. Bus No. 22, 24, 135, 159, 162, and 853. Contact Ving/Allan/Robert at tel. no. 92278043, 96548467, and 93853396.
5. Dec. 19, Friday. Novena Church, 300 Thomson Road. Bus No. 54, 143, 162, 167, and 851. Contact Rey/Sarah at tel. no. 90863457/90762186.
6. Dec. 20, Saturday. Church of St. Francis of Assisi, 200 Boon Lay Avenue. Bus No. 502, 174. Contact Yolly/Alda at tel. no. 94876534/81893796.
7. Dec. 21, Sunday. Church of St. Michael, 17 St. Michael’s Road. Bus No. 13, 23, 26, 31, 61, 64, 65, 66, 107, 125, 133, 147, 853, 857, and 985. Contact Father Angel at tel. no. 63920592.
8. Dec. 22, Monday. Church of the Holy Trinity, 20 Tampines Street 11. Bus No. 8, 17, 18, 28, 34, 39, 59, 292, and 518. From Tampines MRT, walk towards Simei (2nd crossing). Contact Zap/Marie at tel. no. 82881025/94783985.
9. Dec. 23, Tuesday. Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, 31 Siglap Hill. Bus No. 2, 7, 24, 25, 26, 28, 30, 32, 33, and 854. Contact Lyn at tel. no. 96569968.
10. Dec. 24, Wednesday. Church of Saints Peter and Paul, 225A Queen Street. Bus No. 7, 14, 16, 36, 106, 111, 131, 162, 167, 171, 401, 502, 518, 700, 700A, and 857. Contact Jenny at tel. no. 62563163.
Father Angel Luciano, CICM and images of Simbang Gabi.
Father Manoling Francisco, SJ and one of his compositions.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Mr. Ajith, Fellow Overseas Worker
by Arjaye Llamas Peria
Saudi Arabia
Saudi Arabia
This article was originally published in Color and Visions (Volume I / Issue 1), official corporate publication/newsletter of Astra Polymers (www.astra-polymers.com) as a feature article from one of its (former) employees, Mr. Rjaye Llamas Peria. Mr. Allan V. Adan, Editor-In-Chief of Color and Visions, has given Barangay OFW his kind permission to re-publish this article. You may reach Mr. Adan at allan.adan@astra-polymers.com or allanadan@hotmail.com
It was not a typical Saturday morning. Something had changed in him. He smiled at me though I sensed the freshness of his face had succumbed to the dark shadow that he tried to conceal. I knew by intuition that Mr. Ajith was hiding something from me on that day.
I knew there was something wrong. But I was not accustomed to asking him questions that might give me an embarrassing retort. Besides, I knew Mr. Ajith pretty well and therefore, asking a question if he was all right or not would be nonsensical. It was logical to hold that action speaks louder than words.
I lowered my eyes and nailed my attention to his right hand. He was holding a piece of paper. When he noticed that I was staring at it, he slowly handed the paper over to me. I glanced back at him after going through it. I was totally astounded.
The truth was, we had had many instances of short conversations whenever he came to clean my office. He told me that he came from a poor family of four siblings. He was second to the eldest. He dreamt of working abroad not for himself, but for his parents and his own family. He wanted to help them in their daily survival, and hopefully, to help them enjoy an average way of life. A way of life that was conventional in his country.
His first experience of being away from home was in 1999. It was an ill-fated experience. He was a roomboy in a lodging house in Kuwait. After four months, an untoward incident occurred that forced him to leave Kuwait and fly back to Sri Lanka. Once again, he embraced the difficulties of life which he had hoped to change.
It was in the early part of the year 2000 when another opportunity crossed his path. This was his chance to work in Saudi Arabia. Mr. Ajith was determined to pursue his dream for the sake of his extended family. Without a second thought, he gave himself another try. He left Sri Lanka hoping to seize one of the stars in order to illuminate if not the whole portion of his life, at least a part of it.
“Do you wish to see your father for the last time?” I asked.
While saying this, I looked back at the piece of paper he gave me. It was a short fax message in Sinhala; “Tata mala en ne gadara.” (Your father died come home).”
He shook his head. His face was unfathomable. After a while, he murmured in broken Arabic, English and Sinhala, “Ana mafi go, me send money to them. They need money. Me mother old.”
Then he whispered with a trembling voice, “Egollanta mudal awassai bumithanam viyathamata.” (They need money for the burial).
As a Filipino, I was stunned. I’d fly home whatever it took if I were in Mr. Ajith’s place. I didn’t know what to say. Silence, so silent it hurt, reigned between us.
Was it about the expenses of flying back to Sri Lanka that made him insensitive and unsympathetic? I was cynical whether to admire or accuse him. Softly, he shuffled out of my office. His steps were slow and heavy as if he were dragging himself. It was then I realized the gravity of his loss and the grief he was dealing with.
It was a short encounter between Mr. Ajith and me on a Saturday morning. It was not a typical Saturday morning. Something had changed in him, and in me. It left me with a heartbreaking thought – to love is not solely to give oneself but to learn to endure each pain in order to fulfill a more noble cause.
I knew there was something wrong. But I was not accustomed to asking him questions that might give me an embarrassing retort. Besides, I knew Mr. Ajith pretty well and therefore, asking a question if he was all right or not would be nonsensical. It was logical to hold that action speaks louder than words.
I lowered my eyes and nailed my attention to his right hand. He was holding a piece of paper. When he noticed that I was staring at it, he slowly handed the paper over to me. I glanced back at him after going through it. I was totally astounded.
The truth was, we had had many instances of short conversations whenever he came to clean my office. He told me that he came from a poor family of four siblings. He was second to the eldest. He dreamt of working abroad not for himself, but for his parents and his own family. He wanted to help them in their daily survival, and hopefully, to help them enjoy an average way of life. A way of life that was conventional in his country.
His first experience of being away from home was in 1999. It was an ill-fated experience. He was a roomboy in a lodging house in Kuwait. After four months, an untoward incident occurred that forced him to leave Kuwait and fly back to Sri Lanka. Once again, he embraced the difficulties of life which he had hoped to change.
It was in the early part of the year 2000 when another opportunity crossed his path. This was his chance to work in Saudi Arabia. Mr. Ajith was determined to pursue his dream for the sake of his extended family. Without a second thought, he gave himself another try. He left Sri Lanka hoping to seize one of the stars in order to illuminate if not the whole portion of his life, at least a part of it.
“Do you wish to see your father for the last time?” I asked.
While saying this, I looked back at the piece of paper he gave me. It was a short fax message in Sinhala; “Tata mala en ne gadara.” (Your father died come home).”
He shook his head. His face was unfathomable. After a while, he murmured in broken Arabic, English and Sinhala, “Ana mafi go, me send money to them. They need money. Me mother old.”
Then he whispered with a trembling voice, “Egollanta mudal awassai bumithanam viyathamata.” (They need money for the burial).
As a Filipino, I was stunned. I’d fly home whatever it took if I were in Mr. Ajith’s place. I didn’t know what to say. Silence, so silent it hurt, reigned between us.
Was it about the expenses of flying back to Sri Lanka that made him insensitive and unsympathetic? I was cynical whether to admire or accuse him. Softly, he shuffled out of my office. His steps were slow and heavy as if he were dragging himself. It was then I realized the gravity of his loss and the grief he was dealing with.
It was a short encounter between Mr. Ajith and me on a Saturday morning. It was not a typical Saturday morning. Something had changed in him, and in me. It left me with a heartbreaking thought – to love is not solely to give oneself but to learn to endure each pain in order to fulfill a more noble cause.
Friday, September 12, 2008
The Perils and Challenges of Working Overseas
by Romulo L. Panganiban
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
This article was originally published in Color and Visions (Volume II / Issue 5), official corporate publication/newsletter of Astra Polymers (www.astra-polymers.com) as a feature article from one of its (former) employees, Mr. Romulo L. Panganiban. Mr. Allan V. Adan, Editor-In-Chief of Color and Visions, has given Barangay OFW his kind permission to re-publish this article. You may reach Mr. Adan at allan.adan@astra-polymers.com
Considering the sagging economy and high level of unemployment in most South Asian and South East Asian countries, the job market in the Middle East has proved to be a lucrative alternative for those aspiring to break free from joblessness and monetary insufficiency. Not only that the Middle East offers employment opportunities for many blue-collar workers, but it also contributes in generating economic rewards for many third-world countries through dollar remittances. Thus, many have left behind their loved ones with hopes and expectations that working in the far away desert would make their dreams come true – a better life.
Risks and Uncertainties
However, working in another country in favor of greater economic gains has enormous risks and uncertainties. Stories have been told about men and women who lost their psychological balance for not being able to handle the pressures of the new environment. There have been many accounts of maltreated workers who had to find desperate means and run away from abusive employers. Similarly, one cannot ignore the sad tales and tragedies about broken marriages, disintegration and moral degradation among families of overseas workers.
Being an overseas contract worker is certainly not easy. It takes a higher level of maturity and emotional strength to tackle the many issues besetting the home, relationships, financial needs, survival at the workplace, and cultural differences. People who opt to work in a far away region are compelled to relinquish the direct and close supervision of the household, child-rearing, family affairs, and family budgeting, among others; and go through the complicated acclimatization process as they set foot in a foreign land.
However, working in another country in favor of greater economic gains has enormous risks and uncertainties. Stories have been told about men and women who lost their psychological balance for not being able to handle the pressures of the new environment. There have been many accounts of maltreated workers who had to find desperate means and run away from abusive employers. Similarly, one cannot ignore the sad tales and tragedies about broken marriages, disintegration and moral degradation among families of overseas workers.
Being an overseas contract worker is certainly not easy. It takes a higher level of maturity and emotional strength to tackle the many issues besetting the home, relationships, financial needs, survival at the workplace, and cultural differences. People who opt to work in a far away region are compelled to relinquish the direct and close supervision of the household, child-rearing, family affairs, and family budgeting, among others; and go through the complicated acclimatization process as they set foot in a foreign land.
Emotional Balance and Open Mind
Working in another country does not solely revolve around going to work every day and sending remittances home at the end of each month. Psychological and emotional readiness in living independently and combating homesickness is necessary, as overseas workers should be able to conclude each working day without losing sanity. Hence, a high level of self-determination and self-sufficiency is essential.
It is likewise important that migrant workers possess an open mind to survive the demands of the new job. They must unlearn stereotypes and outdated points of reference and adapt to the new work environment with due consideration to certain factors such as power distance, organizational hierarchy and corporate culture to keep themselves afloat. They must find ways to battle through political bickering, departmental frictions, hostilities, leadership styles and many other challenges, which they will surely encounter within the four corners of the workplace. It is easier said than done. But capitalizing on humility, dexterity and flexibility will surely make them travel far minus the bruises and pains.
Working in another country does not solely revolve around going to work every day and sending remittances home at the end of each month. Psychological and emotional readiness in living independently and combating homesickness is necessary, as overseas workers should be able to conclude each working day without losing sanity. Hence, a high level of self-determination and self-sufficiency is essential.
It is likewise important that migrant workers possess an open mind to survive the demands of the new job. They must unlearn stereotypes and outdated points of reference and adapt to the new work environment with due consideration to certain factors such as power distance, organizational hierarchy and corporate culture to keep themselves afloat. They must find ways to battle through political bickering, departmental frictions, hostilities, leadership styles and many other challenges, which they will surely encounter within the four corners of the workplace. It is easier said than done. But capitalizing on humility, dexterity and flexibility will surely make them travel far minus the bruises and pains.
A high degree of socialization and interaction with people in the new environment could help manage homesickness and yearning for loved ones. Peer groups and companionship are means by which an overseas worker could establish connection with people, from whom he could seek assistance and company. More importantly, bonding with peers and friends through activities of common interests such as hobbies, sports and recreation expands horizons and enhances social development.
Although overseas workers should remain proud of respective ethnic origin and cultural heritage, they should recognize that thriving in a foreign land requires understanding and respect for other cultures as well as opening their minds to learning and adapting to a few local customs and traditions. The concept of ethnic superiority has long been discarded by modern social scientists. Instead of building cultural fortresses, overseas workers should recognize cultural diversity and assimilation. Instead of passing judgment based on other people’s cultural practices, they should try to look through the intricacies of the interwoven behavioral patterns until they understand the assumptions and beliefs that define them.
Although overseas workers should remain proud of respective ethnic origin and cultural heritage, they should recognize that thriving in a foreign land requires understanding and respect for other cultures as well as opening their minds to learning and adapting to a few local customs and traditions. The concept of ethnic superiority has long been discarded by modern social scientists. Instead of building cultural fortresses, overseas workers should recognize cultural diversity and assimilation. Instead of passing judgment based on other people’s cultural practices, they should try to look through the intricacies of the interwoven behavioral patterns until they understand the assumptions and beliefs that define them.
Commitment to Marital Fidelity
Working in another country is often more complex for married people. While the covenant of marriage is said to guard couples from infidelity, husbands cannot be certain of their wives’ quandary and private actions. Similarly, some men are quite weak in handling intrinsic physiological desires and end up having extra-marital affairs.
Although fidelity is indeed a challenging vow, couples could survive long distance relationships by centering on commitment, communication and self-control. Overseas workers should remain wary of being hooked into affairs that could lead to marital separation, unwanted pregnancy, and even health troubles (i.e. sexually transmittable diseases). Quite intricate, but such could be achieved through periodic priority checks and keeping one’s focus on the motivations of working abroad – the family. Equally significant, however, spouses back home should exert the same effort in battling momentary separation and support their husbands’ or wives’ quest for economic advancement.
Working in another country is often more complex for married people. While the covenant of marriage is said to guard couples from infidelity, husbands cannot be certain of their wives’ quandary and private actions. Similarly, some men are quite weak in handling intrinsic physiological desires and end up having extra-marital affairs.
Although fidelity is indeed a challenging vow, couples could survive long distance relationships by centering on commitment, communication and self-control. Overseas workers should remain wary of being hooked into affairs that could lead to marital separation, unwanted pregnancy, and even health troubles (i.e. sexually transmittable diseases). Quite intricate, but such could be achieved through periodic priority checks and keeping one’s focus on the motivations of working abroad – the family. Equally significant, however, spouses back home should exert the same effort in battling momentary separation and support their husbands’ or wives’ quest for economic advancement.
Being Absentee Parents
The harsh reality of not seeing their kids grow is a far more taxing emotional burden among parents working abroad. Though some children have grown normally without the physical presence of their father or mother, a strong parental relationship would certainly have a more positive impact on any child’s psychological and social development. Hence, it is essential for the spouse back home to keep a constant reminder and memory of the father/mother to the kids as well as establish regular communication and interaction with the distant parent. Information technology and modern telecommunication devices are of great use in this aspect of remote parenting.
The harsh reality of not seeing their kids grow is a far more taxing emotional burden among parents working abroad. Though some children have grown normally without the physical presence of their father or mother, a strong parental relationship would certainly have a more positive impact on any child’s psychological and social development. Hence, it is essential for the spouse back home to keep a constant reminder and memory of the father/mother to the kids as well as establish regular communication and interaction with the distant parent. Information technology and modern telecommunication devices are of great use in this aspect of remote parenting.
The Challenges of Returning Home
Returning home to family, friends and community is another challenge for those who have worked abroad over a long period. Some overseas workers find it hard to re-integrate themselves and experience a feeling of detachment and indifference from families and old pals. There is also the pressure of living to the high financial expectations and impression among relatives and friends thereby creating more strain and pushing them to further distress.
These perils and predicaments are just a few of the many challenges that baffle the spirit of overseas workers each day. Additionally, there is the demand of achieving the financial target and reaping the payback of long-term separation from the family.
Returning home to family, friends and community is another challenge for those who have worked abroad over a long period. Some overseas workers find it hard to re-integrate themselves and experience a feeling of detachment and indifference from families and old pals. There is also the pressure of living to the high financial expectations and impression among relatives and friends thereby creating more strain and pushing them to further distress.
These perils and predicaments are just a few of the many challenges that baffle the spirit of overseas workers each day. Additionally, there is the demand of achieving the financial target and reaping the payback of long-term separation from the family.
Frugality and Financial Prudence
Material wealth is fleeting and no overseas worker is spared from the spiral relationship between income and spending. The increasing costs of living, growing demands of family members, and the desire for personal gratification are forces that constantly shake the hard-earned wages of overseas workers.
Overseas workers must imbibe frugality and prudence in their way of life. Financial stability is achieved through efficient management of limited resources and regular assessment of net worth. One should learn the art of spending within reasonable means and channel a portion of his/her income into a savings account or sound investment venture (e.g. real estate, entrepreneurship, marketable securities). Otherwise, the sacrifices invested and the opportunity costs incurred in working abroad will simply lose their essence.
It is likewise advised that they savor the fruits of hard labor by allotting a portion of their income for personal consumption purposes. Youth and time are irreversible occurrences and engaging in reasonable recreation and leisure activities are equally important in living a balanced life.
Material wealth is fleeting and no overseas worker is spared from the spiral relationship between income and spending. The increasing costs of living, growing demands of family members, and the desire for personal gratification are forces that constantly shake the hard-earned wages of overseas workers.
Overseas workers must imbibe frugality and prudence in their way of life. Financial stability is achieved through efficient management of limited resources and regular assessment of net worth. One should learn the art of spending within reasonable means and channel a portion of his/her income into a savings account or sound investment venture (e.g. real estate, entrepreneurship, marketable securities). Otherwise, the sacrifices invested and the opportunity costs incurred in working abroad will simply lose their essence.
It is likewise advised that they savor the fruits of hard labor by allotting a portion of their income for personal consumption purposes. Youth and time are irreversible occurrences and engaging in reasonable recreation and leisure activities are equally important in living a balanced life.
Employers’ Role
Employers also play a vital role in helping overseas workers survive and thrive in a foreign land. They (Employers) should have a good grasp of the psyche of overseas workers and respond accordingly by providing support mechanisms in the form of proper and adequate job orientation, organized social activities, adequate time for rest and recreation, and coaching and counseling. All these would increase the chance of survival among overseas workers as well as induce efficiency and long-term commitment to the organization. Likewise, empathy and encouragement from supervisors and co-workers would augment the longing for family affection and care.
Employers also play a vital role in helping overseas workers survive and thrive in a foreign land. They (Employers) should have a good grasp of the psyche of overseas workers and respond accordingly by providing support mechanisms in the form of proper and adequate job orientation, organized social activities, adequate time for rest and recreation, and coaching and counseling. All these would increase the chance of survival among overseas workers as well as induce efficiency and long-term commitment to the organization. Likewise, empathy and encouragement from supervisors and co-workers would augment the longing for family affection and care.
The Invisible Costs of an Overseas Job
These challenges, uncertainties and risks are the invisible costs of any overseas employment contract, which a number of workers fail to realize and consider when accepting job offers (as they are often fixated on the monetary reward).
Whatever overseas workers make out of their life abroad depends on their personal agenda, priorities, coping skills and way of life. And although the majority’s standard measure of success is centered on tangible and financial accomplishments, overseas workers might consider looking at these priceless indicators whether working overseas genuinely results in a “better life”: relationship stability, family cohesiveness, peace of mind and self-worth.
These challenges, uncertainties and risks are the invisible costs of any overseas employment contract, which a number of workers fail to realize and consider when accepting job offers (as they are often fixated on the monetary reward).
Whatever overseas workers make out of their life abroad depends on their personal agenda, priorities, coping skills and way of life. And although the majority’s standard measure of success is centered on tangible and financial accomplishments, overseas workers might consider looking at these priceless indicators whether working overseas genuinely results in a “better life”: relationship stability, family cohesiveness, peace of mind and self-worth.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
A Room for my Mom
by Anthony Diala
People’s Republic of China
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.
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…
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.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
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!
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!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Domestic Work is Work… Not Slavery!
by Carmelita C. Ballesteros
Singapore
The lights were turned off in a tiny auditorium at the Substation, a small art gallery for emerging artists on Armenian Street in Singapore. About a hundred men and women in the audience hushed. Soft, background music which sounded like a muted lamentation slowly filled the silence.
Six women in batik pants literally crawled in from the backstage. Then they struggled to stand up. They pantomimed a ritualized beating-up of a poor, hapless slave. As the victim pleaded for mercy, an angel came and snatched her from her tormentors.
The lights were turned on and the six women performers took a bow. It was then that I noticed what their t-shirts proclaimed, “Domestic work is work…not slavery!”
I tried not to cry, but I felt hot salty tears streaming down my face.
H.O.M.E., a registered charity organization which looks into the welfare and rights of migrant workers in Singapore, had sponsored the free screening of the film “ina… anak, pamilya.”
Starring Joel Torre, Eula Valdez, and Angel Aquino, it is a mixed documentary and fiction. Surprisingly, its director, J.P. Bautista, is an amateur film director who resigned from her comfortable Makati job in order to go into advocacy work through the film medium.
The ladies’ pantomime was just a front act. After the introduction of the director and her producer-husband, the lights were turned off again.
It was a simple film about a mother and wife who decided to work as a domestic helper in order to provide more food on the table for her family. Her husband had a lowly clerical job and his salary was hardly enough for food, house rental, school uniforms and shoes for their three children.
On the day that the mother left for the first time, her bunso was probably five years old. It was early dawn and she didn’t wish to wake up the children. As her husband (Joel Torre) stood waiting, holding her suitcase in the doorway, the mother (Eula Valdez) looked longingly at her children. She couldn’t resist caressing ever so gently her bunso’s hair as he slept peacefully.
I tried not to cry, but I felt hot salty tears streaming down my face.
Eula Valdez wasn’t crying; neither was Joel Torre. The children were asleep. There were no words spoken. There wasn’t any music. Then I heard my seatmates to the left and to the right sobbing. My face was getting soaked, so I took out a hanky. I heard a collective sniff. Everyone was crying!
How could a simple, underacted scene make everyone cry? It was because of the depth of our collective anguish, unspoken pain, and silent yearning for our families to hold and to love.
Interwoven with the mother’s story were statistics, survey results, and interview excerpts. It said there were 10 million domestic workers around the world in chains. In addition to Filipinos, these workers included Indonesians, Thais, Sri Lankans, Burmese, Cambodians, Vietnamese, Lao, etc.
Toward the end of the mother’s story, hope through OFW reintegration programs was shown. The husband attended an NGO-sponsored seminar and the docu-part of the film talked about the government’s initiatives towards providing loans for small entrepreneurs.
When the lights were turned on, the director of the film spoke again saying that her hope was that OFWs would be able to go home for good, succeed in their small businesses, and never ever have to leave their families behind again.
Copyright © 2008 to Barangay OFW. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?
This article, "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" by Teresita Cruz-del Rosario was originally published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer on July 17, 2008 (Manila time). Dr. del Rosario has given Barangay OFW her kind permission to re-publish this article. She is a Senior Research Fellow at the Lee Kuan Yew School of Public Policy in Singapore. You may reach her at tdelrosario@nus.edu.sg
From nanny-cum-cook-cum-laundry-woman in an Asian city, Maria promptly plunged into work in an export garments factory eight years after her return home. Wages were better, work conditions allowed her one-day-a-week off, and there was handsome overtime pay. Her life as migrant worker was irretrievably over.
Then one day she fell mysteriously ill. What started as a suspicion that she inhaled too much cotton dust from cutting fabric ended with a much deeper malaise, diagnosed six months after a cough that wouldn’t go away. She had contracted the HIV/AIDs virus.
She was promptly thrown out of her home that she helped build and sustain through eight years of monthly remittances. Her husband remarried and her children put her in a government hospital that has since become her home. Along with other patients, like her usually migrant returnees, she is hidden from view, a secret scourge that society has wished away into non-existence.
Maria’s mini-narrative mirrors the vulnerabilities that somehow disappear in the reckoning of advantages to both labor-sending and labor-receiving countries. Remittances and strong labor demand remain at the top of a list of economic justifications for why governments would adopt, however unofficially, the export of labor as government policy.
Yet it is also a central feature of the global labor market that the majority of foreign workers are young able-bodied women, hardly equipped with the socio-cultural-psychological resources to navigate the complexities of the global marketplace. Like Maria, many of them fall through the global cracks. Those who suffer from extreme misfortune plunge into a deep dark hole, unable to redeem themselves.
Some countries have stepped up to the plate, however. Sri Lanka, for one, has negotiated bilateral agreements with a Jordanian insurance company to provide cover for all Sri Lankan domestic workers. The costs borne by Jordanian employers are reflected in model contracts that embody all contractual obligations between employer and employee. Similar arrangements are currently being worked out with the Kuwaiti government.
Recently Thailand entered into bilateral agreements with Cambodia, Laos and Myanmar to manage the logistical arrangements involving 50,000 to 100,000 guest workers. This move aims to curb illegal migration through registration, and provide better monitoring and surveillance of cross-border migration. Such agreements are however silent on migrant labor’s rights or social protection measures available to them.
Singapore’s open admission that its continuing viability as a city-state hinges on constant labor importation translates into a series of policy and programmatic interventions to entice foreign workers to join the Singaporean workforce at all levels. Training for skills upgrading is an option to domestic helpers who can acquire a diploma as a nursing aide.
At the high-end of the labor market, Singapore allows professionals to apply for permanent resident status within three months, a recognition of their worth to the Singaporean economy, and a policy move to retain professional labor.
Most labor-sending countries like Pakistan, Sri Lanka and the Philippines require pre-departure training for migrants, provide protection shelters for migrant workers in designated countries, and have institutionalized an overseas welfare fund to provide insurance benefits to workers and their families in case of death, repatriation, partial and total disablement. Membership in these funds is mandatory; hence migrant workers are automatically covered even before they have left for their work destinations.
Maria’s predicament, however, remains unresolved. Current social insurance schemes miss out on various other contingencies that afflict migrant workers the world over. The majority of complaints center on issues of non-payment of salaries, breach of contract, onerous conditions of work and cultural adjustment problems.
Workers arrive in these countries stranded, left to their devices when agencies in the receiving countries fail to show up at the designated pick-up points. Others are officially employed to work in single homes yet are asked to double-up at a family-owned restaurant or clean up a mother-in-law’s house. The worst cases forcibly end up in their master’s bed for sexual favors and much like Maria, their brutal predicaments are known only much later.
For those fortunate ones whose migration experience was all-around trouble-free, their return home is a tale of sudden insecurity. They have provided for everyone but themselves, accumulated no savings, despite long careers overseas. A long line of children, nephews and nieces would have grown up and been educated on remittance money, the family home refurbished, the land title fully secured and paid for, the sari-sari (convenience) store abundantly stocked with monthly shipments of goodies.
But the migrant worker returns home with only a suitcase of clothes and perhaps a television set purchased at the duty free shop in Dubai. Relatives teeming at the airport await a final dole-out of leftover cash. The migrant worker’s first day at home is a wash-out.
To date, there is no pension or forced savings scheme for migrants. For while countries with aging populations worry about the availability and longevity of social security funds and depend on migrant caregivers, there is little thought given to migrant workers’ desires to retire from overseas work someday. Yes, Virginia, migrants become old too.
Perhaps these additional social costs should be factored in when charting supply and demand curves in the global labor market equation. More pointedly, time has come to put more balls in migration governance.
Monday, July 21, 2008
An OFW Daughter’s Perspective
by Rizza Lee
Singapore
Singapore
She is in her mid 20's, a fashion-plate with designer clothes bought from different corners of the globe. Sweet, witty, and pretty, she is my friend who confides to me not for advice, but to have somebody who can see her in a different perspective.
When she was eight, her parents worked separately in two different European countries. When she was ten, her parents separated and she grew up under the tutelage of her grandmother.
“Who cares? As long as he gives me a good amount of sustento,” was her remark about her father who had re-married and already had his second family abroad.
My friend’s mother came home for a few days once in a couple of years. At age 52, she was still working quite hard out there to spoil my friend with worldly materials.
Spoiled enough, she was! She had four different active cell phones. She used each phone with a different boy friend. This arrangement, according to her, helped avoid confusion of sweet talks and text messages. She also dated several married guys and a few managers in our company.
People either loved her or hated her. She had a ‘bad girl’ reputation which she created herself and heedlessly flaunted. Although most of my female colleagues hated her, I thought of her as a little girl who managed to hide her pains through the attention of an entourage of boy friends who adored her.
One day in the office, she seemed annoyed while talking to her mom on the phone. When she put down the phone, she looked at me and sighed deeply.
“Nakakainis! My mom wants to come home next month--- for good.”
I said, “That would be great!”
When she was eight, her parents worked separately in two different European countries. When she was ten, her parents separated and she grew up under the tutelage of her grandmother.
“Who cares? As long as he gives me a good amount of sustento,” was her remark about her father who had re-married and already had his second family abroad.
My friend’s mother came home for a few days once in a couple of years. At age 52, she was still working quite hard out there to spoil my friend with worldly materials.
Spoiled enough, she was! She had four different active cell phones. She used each phone with a different boy friend. This arrangement, according to her, helped avoid confusion of sweet talks and text messages. She also dated several married guys and a few managers in our company.
People either loved her or hated her. She had a ‘bad girl’ reputation which she created herself and heedlessly flaunted. Although most of my female colleagues hated her, I thought of her as a little girl who managed to hide her pains through the attention of an entourage of boy friends who adored her.
One day in the office, she seemed annoyed while talking to her mom on the phone. When she put down the phone, she looked at me and sighed deeply.
“Nakakainis! My mom wants to come home next month--- for good.”
I said, “That would be great!”
But I stopped talking when she continued to say jokingly, “Ayoko nga, noh! I’m not used to having her around. Hay naku, di bale, I will try my best para makisama. She might not give me pasalubong at pera pag inaway ko.”
More than a month had passed and I noticed her coming to work early and working late at night. I was curious how she and her mom were getting along. I asked her about her mom while we were having lunch.
“Naku, gusto ba naman tumabi sa akin sa pagtulog! Tapos sa umaga, she makes me a tuna sandwich kasi healthy daw. Di ba n’ya alam na I don’t eat tuna? Eto pa ha, she prepares my clothes for me kahit di nya rin alam kung ano gusto kong isuot. Hay naku! I hope she stops doing those things, kasi she’s treating me like the kid I was when she left me. That’s why I go home late and come to work early para maiwasan ang encounter.”
I responded to her, “But I don’t think you should be giving her that ill-deserved punishment. Sabi nga nila, the more you hate your parents, the more you become like them, or even worse!”
My laconic comment stunned her to silence. Then she asked, “Uy mare, totoo ba ‘yan?”
“Ewan, pero marami na akong kakilala na ganun ang nangyayari. Alam mo mare, when we were kids, LOVE was spelled TIME in our eyes. Now that we’ve grown-up, and our parents have aged, they realize that at this point in our lives, we were right all along. Love is time spent together.”
During that time, I was planning to work abroad myself so I could afford to provide for more than just my children’s basic needs. My own advice was reflected back to me. As her mother had done, I was also about to brave separation from my own children and work abroad in the hope of giving them a good life.
Was it really all worth it? Would they ever understand? Would they ever see beyond the desertion that I had only the best intentions for them?
More than a month had passed and I noticed her coming to work early and working late at night. I was curious how she and her mom were getting along. I asked her about her mom while we were having lunch.
“Naku, gusto ba naman tumabi sa akin sa pagtulog! Tapos sa umaga, she makes me a tuna sandwich kasi healthy daw. Di ba n’ya alam na I don’t eat tuna? Eto pa ha, she prepares my clothes for me kahit di nya rin alam kung ano gusto kong isuot. Hay naku! I hope she stops doing those things, kasi she’s treating me like the kid I was when she left me. That’s why I go home late and come to work early para maiwasan ang encounter.”
I responded to her, “But I don’t think you should be giving her that ill-deserved punishment. Sabi nga nila, the more you hate your parents, the more you become like them, or even worse!”
My laconic comment stunned her to silence. Then she asked, “Uy mare, totoo ba ‘yan?”
“Ewan, pero marami na akong kakilala na ganun ang nangyayari. Alam mo mare, when we were kids, LOVE was spelled TIME in our eyes. Now that we’ve grown-up, and our parents have aged, they realize that at this point in our lives, we were right all along. Love is time spent together.”
During that time, I was planning to work abroad myself so I could afford to provide for more than just my children’s basic needs. My own advice was reflected back to me. As her mother had done, I was also about to brave separation from my own children and work abroad in the hope of giving them a good life.
Was it really all worth it? Would they ever understand? Would they ever see beyond the desertion that I had only the best intentions for them?
Aware of my friend’s perspective as a daughter, I made a promise to myself that wherever I go, my family would come with me and we would always be together. It would be a lot riskier but it was a risk I was most prepared to take.
Two months ago, my friend sent me an email. An excerpt of it says: “I have learned to accept and not to fight back what is happening. And I felt better. I’m just starting to do it, mare. And we are both struggling to be comfortable with each other. All these years, my mom was a stranger to me.”
I felt both happy and sad for her. Happy – because she seemed to have become a new person who had finally figured out her life. Sad – because she felt that her mother was a stranger to her.
The words might not have been spoken, but her mother must have surely felt it. What else could be more painful to a mother who had sacrificed the best years of her life working as an OFW in a foreign land?
Two months ago, my friend sent me an email. An excerpt of it says: “I have learned to accept and not to fight back what is happening. And I felt better. I’m just starting to do it, mare. And we are both struggling to be comfortable with each other. All these years, my mom was a stranger to me.”
I felt both happy and sad for her. Happy – because she seemed to have become a new person who had finally figured out her life. Sad – because she felt that her mother was a stranger to her.
The words might not have been spoken, but her mother must have surely felt it. What else could be more painful to a mother who had sacrificed the best years of her life working as an OFW in a foreign land?
Copyright © 2008 to Barangay OFW. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Country Mouse & OFW Mouse
by Carmelita C. Ballesteros
Singapore
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.
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