I revisited my Drafts and found this saved from Q2 of 2006

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The title is supposed to be a literal translation of the Pinoy proverb “isang kahig, isang tuka“. Mostly associated with the working class struggling to make ends meet.

But does it still apply to OFWs across the globe when they’re earning more than their counterparts back home? Of course!

Hubby & I live and work in London. Yes, if we convert our income to peso (php), we’re mucho dinero but since we have a mortgage, a car, childcare costs, household bills & taxes (there are so many in the UK!) to pay, we have no spare cash after every pay day. Our wallets are as thin as Kate Moss, if not thinner.

I’d like to think we’re not destitute but we can’t save a penny – yet. Right now our earnings’ just enough. We’re gritting our teeth but our situation will ease in a year’s time. By then, hopefully we should have completed our payment in our Tagaytay property & we’ll have that spare dime we can then stash in our starving savings account.

Another year & the car would be paid, which would mean we can upgrade if want to. Or even decide to get another property in Pinas or even here. We could opt to work on that extension on our house… So… yes, we’re tightening our belts so we can live it out in comfort & we can secure our future back home. We’re not greedy, we’re realistic. I tell hubby the reason for all the “struggle” is because we can do this while we’re still young & can handle the “stress”. But can we?

I thought the whole month’s gonna pass without any problems. But last weekend after a kiddie party, my son got sick. Hubby & I have to juggle work & nursing the little boy. There’s much discussion about who should stay at home. I insist I did last time & it’s his turn.

We’re both very busy. But of course I felt I deserved to work coz it’s my last 2 weeks & I’m still recruiting & training the testers. I feel guilty that I might leave the company in a lurch (yes I know I should be guilty of thinking that when my son is sick). Thankfully hubby’s got 2 days off so it wasn’t that bad. For his side, he insists he’s needed at the hospital coz he’s a “sister” & the rest of the staff are juniors.

The perils of parenthood with no grandparents as backup.

Anyway, two nights ago, my son was fighting with hubby to stay awake though he’s clearly sleepy. He hasn’t been eating well and… well, he’s got gastroentiritis, it’s not pretty.

I was groggy & tired from work, I just want to sleep. It was 8pm & was half-awake when my mobile phone rang. There were so many voices in the background all giggly & I thought maybe I know them, I just don’t recognize the number. A guy said hello & said “ayan na” & gave the phone to someone else. Still patient but yawning, I asked who it was. This time a Filipino girl answered, said my name & said “Nanay mo” (your mother) & started to giggle. I hang up.

We’re miles away from home (the Philippines) and Filipinos still waste each other’s time with crank calls. So two days later I remembered & gave the number a call. A girl answered & when I told her who I was she was very apologetic. She won’t say who she was except that she’s a nurse. I asked why she felt the need to call me at night to celebrate their drunken-ness & she started to stammer. Naman… We’re all trying to make a living far away from loved ones & you still get idiots following you around.

written on 7 September 2002

There was much debate about dual citizenship lately. I’m torn in half.

A journalist from Phil. Inquirer says people cannot have the best of both worlds without taking in the worst from both as well. I cannot be British and serve it’s Royal Army and at the same time be in the Philippine Marines. He’s right, most Filipinos and pseudo-Filipinos are plain selfish. All fiery and seemingly patriotic when “big” things are happening in Manila but when that issue fails them, their fervour fizzles and dies. Off they go, comfortable in their brick houses with working chimneys and carpeted floors. They’re like most Philippine politicians, they have back-ups and spare tires in case things do not work out in our country.

Am I going to be like them? Am I like them?

I am deeply patriotic. I’m a Filipino. I feel it in my heart and soul. Heck, I’m willing to die for my country. I cry when the government fails and I feel physical pain when I see pictures of our slums. It hurts to say we’re one of the Third World. But I’m proud of my colour, my race and my history. I’m proud of our skilled workers and I’m happy to be one of them. Prouder still that London knows it.

In a few years time my husband and I can apply for residency, a few more after that and we can apply for citizenship. I’ve been asking myself whether it’s necessary. Would it matter that every time I see “citizenship” in a form I’ll fill in “British”? That every time someone asks me what my citizenship is, I will not answer “Filipino” anymore?

I already feel like a traitor. I’m going to betray myself. I’m going to betray my Motherland. I feel guilty and I think I will be.

Tears fell from my eyes last night while contemplating this. It’s difficult to put into words. How did other Filipinos feel when they took oath for a different nation? As far as I can tell, most of the Pinoys around me are happy enough of the prospect.

I’ll delay it as much as I can. Probably long enough that it wouldn’t happen at all.

When the time comes and I decide to swear on a foreign flag, I’ll be changing my personal details but I would like to say, I will never change my allegiance to my country of birth.

Wow Pasko na! At dito sa London super shopping ang mga tao. Kung may formal survey lang it will most probably show that there are at least 5 plastics being swiped in a single high street shop every 5 minutes — probably more if the buyer bought less than 3 items!

Siempre may attempts din to celebrate the reason for Christmas. There are posters everywhere that shows Jesus in a “modern” light. I can’t find the link to show you what they look like but one showed baby Jesus in the common red background as Che Guevarra’s. The slogan says “Who is the modern hero?”.

Then in my neighbourhood, the RC Church has been busy giving away pamphlets detailing the week long celebration with carols, fairs & the mass schedule up to New Year.

There are twinkling lights everywhere, even in my lounge.

Ilang araw na lang Pasko na. I miss hearing Gary V’s “Pasko na sinta ko” but if I do I’d probably cry. How I wish we can celebrate Christmas & New Year back home. Home is Nueva Ecija, Philippines. Oh well what can you do ‘eh?

So sige Merry Christmas na at Happy 2006 na din. Next year, bagong buhay, bagong pagsubok, bagong lakas.

My parents were pretending to be casual last night as they relate how a family friend’s (also living in London) guestroom is always booked. That she & her husband managed to forge a friendship with those they work with, albeit all are still Pinoys. Then my dad’s double-entendre rubbed more salt to a gaping wound by stating that it’s not bad to have at least 10 circle of friends who visit and that we visit. My mom added matter-of-factly that I should have friends from work come over.

Five year in London and I always ask myself, why am I friendless? Am I really friendless?

My husband & I moved out of the London town we originally settled in for several reasons. Topmost is the property price. We can afford it but we’d be limited as we’re also investing back home, tripling our monthly outgoings. The other personal reason was we didn’t want to be near the original Pinoy crew from my husband’s hospital. We don’t like the intrigues, the gossips, the cliques & most especially the gauging of our lifestyles.

We took a risk. No more dropping by a friend’s house two-blocks away. No more surprise calls saying they’re on their way to eat dinner at our place. No more sudden invitation to go joy-riding or carboot sale hunting. Now we live a good-30minute drive away from “them”. It takes a lot more planning to get-together apparently.

Working full-time, with a 1-year old to look after and an irregular nurse’s shift to consider, moving about & “dropping-by” our friends just isn’t as easy as before. I’m sure it’d be the same if we were living next door to our closest friend. I mean, I only have the weekend to do all the motherly-things & domestic-chores expected of me, can I really afford to spend 2 hours in public transport just to have tea with someone who’s probably as busy? Who’d do the laundry? Who’d cook dinner? Etc Etc.

But yes, I am missing the point. The point is my parents think I (& my husband) have no friends. I think so too. I personally have no shoulder to cry on when I am frustrated with my husband or when I am so tired from work & home that I want to tear my hair out. But it’s a personal decision to put everyone at an arm’s length. Fear of hearing your tears reverberate in the “Pinoy community” stops me from being open.

I miss my friends back home. My true friends. I keep telling myself I will make friends here, someday. It seems impossible now. I like my officemates & I get invited to parties & to after office do’s but I never jump in. I’ve no one to blame but me, I don’t want to mingle. So there. I am alone but not really. I have my family and that’s all that matters.

Sure I miss the socialisation but then I meet up with ex-colleagues now and then. I also chat & lunch with present teammates. We’ve three new Pinoy families we go to parties with in our new place. We call and receive calls from the closest Pinoy friends we have. I get emailed by former officemates. We visit our old town now & then, probably once every two-months to attend baptismals, birthdays, etc.

That’s enough social interaction for now. Am I limiting myself? Yes I know. What can I do?

Now that the lag in my workload is over, my virtual in-tray is starting to outgrow my son. I have to admit though, I feel more alive than ever. Drained but alive. Does that make sense?

Three major events (not sure if that’s the proper term) happened last week. Weekend of 2d July saw the Live8 concert held in Hyde Park. We were tuned in, my toddler was headbanging & my husband reminiscing. He saw kids in the crowd and wondered if we should have ventured to Central London… I said ah-uh. What risk my son getting dehydrated or infected in the common urinals which I doubt will have changing rooms?

Then Tuesday, 5 July, D-Day for the IOC decision from Singapore. London was jubilant. People were dancing and cavorting in Trafalgar Square. The City will host the 2012 Olympics! Fantastic! I was excited too. Wow I’ll be there and by that time my son will be old enough to actually enjoy it. My husband is ecstatic too, he keeps saying it will boost the price of our property. Well let’s hope so!

The most unforgettable was Thursday, 7 July, 4 bombs were detonated in Central London’s busiest routes during the morning rush hour. I missed it thankfully. I was already safe in the office when I received hubby’s call. I told my officemates and we were tuned in to the telly for the better part of the day. The information we’re getting were all confusing… No it’s just train collision, no there are 7 explosions… But one thing’s for sure it was mayhem and people are maimed, hurt and some are dead. I was lucky a rail station was still operating going to Barking. I walked towards Fenchurch Street from Hatton Garden. London mid-day with no traffic was an eery sight. As I told friends over and over, it was a scene you only expect to see in horror / thriller films. Patrol cars zig-zag from nowhere, people were walking, the few buses I saw were parked, police cordon were in every station I pass.

The Heavens seem to commiserate. The sky was sad with grey clouds and pouring rain. I did’t know what to feel first: rage, sadness, relief? I picked up my son on the way home and slept beside him by 6pm… Thank God the day was over.

I received calls, SMS, emails from friends. I sent a lot as well asking if they are okay, telling them we are okay. Up to now I know London is just praying for the souls of the victims, most of which are still not recovered from the Underground. I know I am one of millions hoping it never happens again.