| 7
July 2002
Homesick, homebound
"TWO more
sleeps," an American friend consoled me as she sensed how much I
wanted to get back home, after almost two weeks in the States.
We Filipinos are homebodies. As my American friend had learned from
frequent visits to the Philippines, from the first day we spend away
from home we begin a countdown, using the number of "sleeps"
(e.g., "Dalawang tulog na lang" – Two nights of sleep to go)
before we get home. The "sleeps" are often troubled, as we
toss and turn through the night, and not necessarily from jet lag. I
have friends who will fly to Cebu and stay at the Shangri-La but still
complain about having stayed up all night. Namamahay is the Tagalog term
we use – the body, or maybe the spirit, yearns for home.
Our attachment to home and hearth makes the Filipino diaspora even more
poignant. Depending on whom you ask, we have from 6 to 8 million
Filipinos living overseas. Then there's the Pulse Asia survey where
people were asked whether they agreed or disagreed with the following
statement: "This country is hopeless and if it were possible I
would migrate to another country and live there." A startling 19
percent agreed, and another 20 percent were undecided.
There were strong reactions to that survey finding. The President,
defensive as usual, pointed out that 60 percent disagreed with the
statement. Catholic Church officials reacted, too, with the Inquirer
quoting Bishop Socrates Villegas as appealing that only those without
spouses and children "should take up the challenge of working
abroad.'' Villegas said overseas work and migration had "destroyed
so many families."
The Pulse Asia survey finding has gotten all of us thinking, but we need
more research on both migration and overseas work, combining surveys and
qualitative methods such as life stories, to find out why people want to
leave. The survey question was a bit tricky-"double-barreled'' in
the language of social scientists. You can feel the situation is
hopeless without thinking of migration. Conversely, you might want to
migrate but not necessarily find the Philippines hopeless.
I suspect class makes for very sharp differences. For the very poor, the
40 percent of the population living below the poverty line, migration
and short-term overseas contractual work are not viable options. This
segment of the population lacks the qualification to be able to leave
and those who might qualify can't afford the application and processing
fees.
For the middle class, contractual work is an option, two or three years
at a time. For the men, it's mainly seafaring and construction work. For
the women, it's ending up as domestic helpers, factory workers, or
entertainers. The destinations – Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaysia,
Japan, the Middle East – are not hospitable ones. Filipinos are
welcome only as short-term guest workers.
These overseas workers leave mainly because of economic reasons. The
family's welfare is foremost, yet they have to leave the family-spouse,
children-behind. On planes and in airports, I have heard so many
stories, especially from the women, about having left when a youngest
child was only an infant, and returning four or five years later, to
find a child terrified by the sight of a stranger asking for a hug.
Overseas work is so different from migration, which is an option mainly
for the upper middle class and the rich. The destinations are the United
States, Canada, Australia, where it's become easier to migrate to, if
you have particular skills that are needed and if you can afford the
visa application and processing fees. Some even hire specialized
immigration lawyers to take care of the paper work.
Unlike contractual work, the motivations for migration are not
necessarily economic. Many of those who leave have, in fact, very
comfortable lives here and may continue to shuttle between North America
and the Philippines.
There are more pull factors at work here: a better educational system
for the young, more reliable health care facilities for the older ones.
Others, perhaps the ones "captured" by the Pulse Asia survey,
do talk about the hopeless situation here in terms of graft and
corruption, kidnappings, pollution, the difficulties of advancement
without connections.
The Filipino diaspora has many faces. The two million or so Filipinos
now living in the United States are migrants, but their family life and
aspirations will be so very different from the 500,000 Filipinos, mostly
Muslim, who have fled to Sabah, Malaysia, living as undocumented
migrants.
Whether in Manila, Daly City or Kota Kinabalu, we cling to our
perceptions of the home, finding ways to cope. My friend Babes Nazareno
told me her youngest child couldn't sleep while she was away in the
United States and a household helper found a "cure": tucking
the child into bed with the mother's clothes, the ones she wore before
leaving, folded under the pillow.
On my latest trip to the United States, the hotel receptionist, a
Filipino, told me he flies home every year to Kamuning Street in Quezon
City's Cubao district to see his family. "Buti ka pa," he
hummed sadly as he did my accounts. "Buti ka pa," said the
bellhop, also a Filipino, as he took my bags to the car. "Buti ka
pa," said the Filipino driver who drove me to the airport, as he
unloaded by bags.
Buti ka pa. A literal translation, "Good for you," falls flat.
Said by an overseas worker to someone going home, it means, "How
very lucky you are!" and much more: "I will go home too,
someday. Ilang tulog na lang." A few more nights of sleep.
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