Country Stop-Over

Minus ten degrees celsius. It's immaculately covered in white outside. Snow. The house stands between the garage and the outhouse within the area of thirteen acre land littered with eight assorted small trucks and cars, and a boat under an old pine tree. The first one you see at the corner of Two Queen Street. The only other couple of houses on the block are way out of sight. Dead spot for mobile phones -- we live waaay down the valley, too low.

The hamlet of Fallis: where the houses are far apart, the doors always left unlocked, the lake's frozen all throughout winter, the ground shakes with every passing train. Moose, foxes and squirrels are just around. Noisy geese fly by everyday. Colorful, different species of birds feed on whatever they can find in the yard. Street hockey's played on frozen ground. You run after a dog for a hockeyball and have a snowball fight in a knee-deep snow (till your ears ache, nose freezes, fingers numbed, you get a runny nose and sniffles!) The labrador sprawled on the porch being licked by the big fat cat is an amusing sight. Birds chirping, cat meowing, dogs howling, geese squawking, train toot-ing, grandfather clock ticking, your own breathing are the only sounds you'll hear. The country life. No public transport, no traffic jam. No reception, no use of mobile phones. No post office, no internet cafe. No fast dial-up connection! Peaceful but too quiet. A perfect get-away from the city life. Only for a holiday.

I'm a stranger in strange land, a foreigner in foreign soil, an alien on this side of planet Earth. There's nothing strange, foreign nor alien about my feelings though. Jet-lag had passed, my tastebuds had grown accustomed to the foods (Gee, I hadn't had a grain of rice in a month!), my tummy's still getting used to the eating habits (We get three full meals plus two snacks in the Philippines. Not here, buddy.) Homesickness and silly loneliness creep in. Migrant workers cope, adjust and adapt. The journey never ends. This is just another 'stop-over'. After Taiwan and Hong Kong, Canada's now my host.

The tiny village where I am now is my temporary home. As I cannot drive, the only way out of here is on foot, hike all the way up the hill for about half an hour till I reach the highway. From there I can hitchhike (bad idea). Until I learn how to drive, I'm stuck.

Have you been in a situation where you think you have no control or no way out of? Say, for instance, a domestic job in Hong Kong. It's akin to a 7-11 convenience store where you're expected to be on your feet twenty-four hours a day. One second more and you're about to reach dreamland when the door suddenly opens and your ward's head pops in, "Where's my Hello Kitty sticker?" (Nope, it can't wait till tomorrow. It's just midnight!) As you're snoring your head off at three o'clock in the morning, the doorbell rings. You get up in daze, open the door with a sore head. The lady of the house says, "Cook some noodles, prepare tea, cut some fruits for me, 'che-che', then you go back to bed. Later, go to China at six AM, pick up my belt -- the one that got rhinestones in the buckle." You could be anybody's helper, too. The boss asks you to tend to a sick-depressed-bed-ridden sister of a friend (Yes, you clean up the pee and poop, sorry.), cook for her friend's daughter's birthday party, scrub-clean her bestfriend's new flat, be a substitute for somebody's helper who's on a holiday. All for free. You don't want to lose your job so you take it all in, grit your teeth, swear, whine to your friends, and wish your boss steps on a banana peel, slip and break her HK$400-newly manicured fingernails. Finally, you get the chance to let go of the job. The contract ends but you decided to renew. Why do you still hang on to a job you keep crying your eyes out for, complaining and whining about. You got your reasons, but it wasn't what you first thought that it's not within your control. People abuse you when you let them. You just have to speak your mind. State your limits, specify your boundaries. Just as you're given a curfew on your restday, you ask not to be bothered in the wee hours of the night. Set your foot down, say you won't work illegaly (with or without extra pay) for any of your employer's friends or relatives again. If she respects you, she'll listen to you. If the bad situation continues -- take a chance, find another work, 'kabsat', unless you want to grow old in that job unhappy.

If there's something you can possibly do in a certain situation, find the heart -- do it. You're not as stuck and helpless as you think you are. You're braver than you believe you are.

So now I'm considering other options... learn to drive, take a hike, go for the ride, go with the flow -- or go against the current. Whichever way, it surely is a great journey.

*Published in eFootprints Magazine (July 2007 issue)
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**the author took a hike, hopped into a 17-hour bus ride, and is currently counting snowflakes in British Columbia … 22 months since this journal entry.

Four Seasons of 2008's Images

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joyzjourney images ii

joyzjourney gallery

JOYless CHRISTMAS

If I were Santa Claus, I’d stuff all my negative emotions, sad thoughts, painful memories, core issues and whatnot, in a sack. When the emotional baggage is tightly secured in the sack, I will drop it straight down the chimney to the burning fireplace below.

Wham! Phffft! The fire had consumed it all! I’m now free to roam the world with no heavy stuff with me, just the light, precious feeling of spreading goodwill, love, peace and joy I have in me, to every soul on earth. Hoh! I wish it were that easy…

Since I am not Saint Nicholas, I’m taking things one tiny step at a time, and savouring the moment. Allowing myself first to face the one subject I have been dodging since I cannot even remember when — Christmas. I am actually writing about it now! This is the time of the year when my emotional level is at its lowest peak. Christmas lights make me bow my head in sadness. The carols a downer, shooting stinging darts at my heart, drawing me in a melancholic mood. I told this to my cousin’s wife when she informed me of the upcoming party on Christmas eve while she was decorating the house. “Christmas is for the family,” was my ready reply when she asked, “Why?!” “We are your family,” she said. But I know she understood what I meant. This is one thing I’m very thankful for, having my cousin’s loving family in Vancouver, even just for a while. One day soon, I will be moving away again, on my own. While I have this time, I will cherish every moment, spending the holidays, dancing my bum off, and laughing my heart out with them.

Friends substitute for the absent family during the holidays. Growing up, I was always in some neighbors’ house. Teen-age year Christmases were spent with my gangs and their families. As a migrant worker in my first Taiwan stint, I spent Christmas eve weeping in bed, and Christmas day walking in circles at four o’clock in a winter morning in Ilan City park with a huge, half-paralyzed elderly supported on my side. The following year in Taipei City, I was with a couple of my Taiwanese friends and their friends who took me for night joy-ride and tea shop-hopping. Holidays in Hong Kong were either spent with my coworker and boss’ family or alone, snoring in bed along with the clanging of the church bells.. My last Christmas there was with friends and acquaintances. I did feel jolly and cheerful, appreciating the merrymaking with these people. But after the laughters had died down, and I find myself alone, that was when utter loneliness creep in.

I told a very dear friend recently that Christmas is one of the things I no longer believe in. Not true. Upon deeper reflection, there is a ray of hope deep down within; a deep longing for my loved ones to spend the holidays with, someday — as a family — complete, healed from past wounds. The frozen part of my soul just needs the right amount of heat in order for it to thaw. Given time, the flow will be smooth, unhampered. By then, it will be a paddle I will be asking from Santa, not a sack…

*published in TF Newsmag (December 2008 issue)

THE ANGELA IN OUR LIVES

What’s with the pinoy label of the mother being “ilaw ng tahanan” and the father being “haligi ng tahanan”? In the absence of either one, it’s hard to keep a balance in the home. In the absence of both, much harder still… or no balance at all. There may be caregivers for our kids left back home (lolo and lola, tito and tita) to take over our responsibilities in our absence but they can never take our place as parents. Substitute, yes. The substitute ilaw ng tahanan may not radiate light as bright as the real mom, like candle in place of a light bulb. The substitute haligi ng tahanan may not be as sturdy as the real dad, like a substitute wooden post for bricks. Never the same. There’s always a void, a vacuum waiting to be filled up in the longing child… hungry for paternal care, aching for maternal care. The child’s emotional imbalance remains undetected… until it’s too late.

Amy Gunnacao’s “In Memory of Angela” in our cover story on TF Newsmag for November nudges us to re-examine our choices and redefine our goals. “To provide a better future for our family” — isn’t that every overseas Filipino workers’ (OFWs) purpose in braving foreign lands? A better future in terms of what? A better education for an OFW child than that of the undergraduate OFW parent. A better and comfortable lifestyle for an OFW child compared with that of the OFW mom/dad who grew up lacking in the basic necessities of life. A better job for the OFW child than that of the OFW who scrubs toilet bowls and foreign butts, who chauffeurs night owl bosses, who operates dangerous machineries and toils on backbreaking jobs. A better future for the Angela in our lives. We stuff Angela’s pocket with cash and gadgets. What about the deposits of faith we’re supposed to place in her heart? Do we reach out far enough to make her feel she’s deeply loved despite our physical absence and geographical gap? Are we certain we’re not drilling large holes in our child’s heart?

OFW parents tend to overcompensate and spoil the child with material things. We fail to realize that other things may be more important — like showing a genuine interest in what concerns our kid and giving our focused, undivided attention. And that is possible through the wires, through letters, and other various ways of getting in touch. Not all OFW children live in comfort the way Angela was provided for by her OFW parents. Financial needs are still not being met in many OFW families and the child has to deal with this as he has to with the emotional needs of being separated from the OFW parent. The psychological impact on an OFW child leaves the deepest mark… It either builds or breaks a character. How we deal with our child now would greatly influence her future. The “better future” we’re so keen on preparing for the family may not come if our parenting system is flawed. We’d wonder if something is wrong with our ways when we see signs of rebellion or when our child’s being withdrawn. We don’t ignore the signs and dismiss it as growing pains. We try our darnedest to communicate – really communicate – and delve deep into the kid’s issues. We connect.

While a light overhead can illuminate every nook and cranny of the room, a candle’s blaze only brightens a corner of it, leaving sore, dark spots. We need not dump the bulk of the responsibility of raising our child in the hands of the caregivers back home. Showing that we’re very involved and so much a part of his/her everyday life will do a great deal of good. A better future is at hand.

*published in TF Newsmag (December 2008 issue)