Stories from Home

People from all over the world come to Canada in thousands every year to settle and start a new life. The Philippines has always been one of the top ten source countries of immigrants to Canada.
There were several years when Filipinos made up the first five largest groups of immigrants.
Aside from those who come in with permanent resident visas, Filipinos also make up one of the largest groups of overseas workers who came usually as live in caregivers. Eventually this group also becomes permanent residents.
All these people wherever they came from eventually go back to their countries of origin to visit. That love and bond with their native lands remain in their hearts.
The call of the blood of kinship always remains. No matter what success or good life they enjoy in Canada, whatever chance in citizenship they may achieve that tie to the native land remains.
Immigrants to North America, like those who were born in this part of the world, have acquired certain traditions that are observed in different ways.
One is the practice of an annual holiday which usually lasts for two weeks. This vacation is a legal right of every worker or employee. Some even have longer holidays depending on the length of service.
Some workers or employees who have many financial obligations do not take the holiday,. They just ask their employers to give them the equivalent of the said days in cash. But others look forward to this respite and plan the holiday way in advance. They buy plane tickets at sale prices and save as much as they can for the expenses in the trip.
Many of my friends take advantage of their vacation period to go to the Philippines. “Uuwi ako” is the usual response I hear when I ask them where they are going for their vacation,” I am going home,” not “I am visiting.”
The heart is still in the home country. It will remain “the home” in spite of their second home in Canada, in spite of the circle of family and friend they have built in the second abode, in spite of their better financial standing, in spite of a better future for their children, “Uuwi ako!.”
My sister and her friends went home recently. They are old friends, way back in the sixties when as young women they ventured to this New World with nursing skills as their capital for a better life.
They are now grandmothers and widows. They had been home to the Philippines since they left countless times but each trip is an adventure they look forward to.
They do not go to their old homes; they travel to places in the Philippines which they had not seen when they were still residing there.
My family was from Manila but these friends she went with were from Palawan. My sister visited these islands two years ago with another sister of mine but they went as tourists, arranged with people from North America and Europe. They went to places of interests underground caves, tourist markets; the like.
This time she went with her friends to a small island, the old home of her friends. She was overwhelmed by the welcome of the extended family that came with varied gifts. – all kinds of native fruits and nuts in big woven baskets (bakol) carried in their heads, live chickens, carried by their bound feet.
Her friends had gifts for all these aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews and niees. There were the canned goods, shoes, candies, vitamins and minerals, coffee, cosmetics. There were big boxes to carry all of these things and at the end they seemed not to be enough. Others got money for “pasalubong”.
But never mind the gifts. What awed my sister was the enthusiasm and warmth of the welcome. These relatives traveled from different corners of the island to her friend’s home.
Most of them were farmers. The hot sun in the Philippines and hard work were etched in their faces and arms. Their eyes were filled with tears and their babbles of talk were unending. My sister felt included in the warm blanket of welcome the family wrapped around them,
A cousin came along the walkway to the house and her approach was announced.
Before she reached the house, she started to tremble and fell unconscious on the path. The relatives ran to her rescue and carried her to the house. “That happens to her almost every day” one cousin remarked “She has epilepsy.”
In the rural areas in the Philippines, people who do not have the means, take ailments like epilepsy in their stride. Basic need get the priority.
In Manila, my sister met with my other sister to work on some papers that needed to be taken to government offices for certification. Her friends from Palawan also traveled with them.
It was lunch time when they finished with their business. They passed by a small booth by the road selling cooked food. They were enticed by the yummy savour of the dishes coming from the cooking and they looked in.
The lady arranging the trays of food pulled them in encouraging them to sample the wares. They wondered where they would eat. “Here” the lady led them to the curtain-shielded back of the booth. There was a tiny table cramped with chairs. They could not refuse, it would be embarrassing with the insistence the lady displayed.
The food was good; very tasty. The only comment was there was too much rice and very little pieces of meat with tiny dices of potato., The price was surprisingly low (when converted to dollars).
It was pouring rain when the group finished their lunch. They were surely be drenched if they ventured out of the booth. But they had to, there were other customers to take their place.
The rain seemed to have no intention to stop. The sides of the booth started to be flooded. “Gusto ba ninyo, ipahahatid ko kayo sa kanto? The owner of the eatery offered. There were several umbrellas at the corner of the booth. “Kanto is the corner where one could get a cab or a jeep.
Where in the world can you get a meal and be escorted with umbrellas to get your ride? Not very many I guess.
My two sisters had to go to a nearby town for some official business. They decided to take a cab that they would keep both ways.
“Ibababa ko ba o itataas ang metro, “the cab driver asked. My sister who came from Canada could not understand.
“Ibaba mo” my sister who lives in the Philippines replied. She subsequently explained that cabs operate with either the meter working or not. The driver then charges you what he decides the fare should be when you get off.
Often, this is a source of fraud, the driver charging much more than he should. When they got off, my sister gave the driver an extra hundred pesos for tip. The driver was very grateful. “Ang Diyos na ang gaganti sa inyo,” he told my sister (One hundred pesos are the equivalent of two dollars and fifty cents.)
My other sister from the Philippines chastised the former for the exorbitant tip. “Sobra naman”, she commented.
There were many other incidents that my sister and her friends reminisced on as I sat with them one afternoon when they were back. The Filipino way of life in the Philippines has not changed., The economy has hardly changed. Life goes on as it used to be. Hardly has there been any change in the way of life, on how people adjust themselves to everyday needs.
And we who had moved elsewhere had forgotten some of those ways our kins are used to. Still, they are our own. Dear Philippines is still home. “Uuwi pa rin tayo”.