OFW Rants: Big Time

My housemate just got back from work, at a quarter past 11 in the evening. He slumped his bag and headphones on the couch, took off his shirt, arched his back and went mumbling under his breath, only for us- the remaining two people in the house who were still awake- to realise that he was actually teary-eyed. Apparently his supervisor was going on a holiday, and he had to take over all the work he'd leave behind. That and he had an early morning shift the following day.

I gave him a shrug and said, “Kapit lang. Kaya yan (Hold on; you can do this)” and then made my way through the kitchen and into the toilet to pee. Inside my room, I sat on my bed and it struck me. That had got to be one of the the worst comments I have ever made in my life. Hold on, you can do this!? What kind of idiot would say such an apathetic comment. Apparently, someone like myself.

I've been a foreign worker for over a year now, and that's what I tell myself, day in and day out- to hold on... to tell myself that I can do this. I push myself, like many others who are like myself, struggling to find a better life for ourselves and the people we left behind, sometimes beyond our limits, because we have to. For many of us, we are left with no choices. People say I had it easy. I say, screw you. You don't know my story; you only know half of it. A true gentleman does not show the enemy that he bleeds. So why would I? Now, imagine those who have been foreign workers all their lives.

***
Just a few days ago, another Filipina was found dead near a lake in Taiwan. Over a month ago, the brother of a close friend died in a lowly hospital in Riyadh, with autopsy reports too vaguely constructed that no one actually knew why he passed away. A couple of days ago, an OFW was sentenced to death.

This is what we wake up too. No, not you who cry over not being bought the iPhone or iPod because Mother says she can't save enough just yet. Not you who ask for new shoes and clothes for the farthest possible relative. No, not even you, who seemingly take time to call, make us cry over the phone, and in the end tell us of woes that you carry on your shoulders- the sickly relative who needs more support, the uncle who needs a new engine for his motorcycle, or the lowly godchild whose grades shot up so high they deserve to get a new PSP.

***
Funny. None of you actually wonder why some of us only post the shopping spree- the new watch, the fancy new Air Jordans, the class Lvs and Prada. We post the fun that we have by the beach, the sleazy poses in front of Lucky Plaza's condom shops, the wacky Korean-esque hand gestures in front of a signage of Chanel. None of you ask. Instead, people tag comments like, “Wow ang yaman mo na (Wow, you're so rich)” or “Ate size 8 ako ha? (Sister, I'm a size 8 okay?)” or better yet, “Wala bang hiring dyan? (Any vacant positions?)” Nope. No one wonders. Blind people, you all are.

I know you've heard rants like these time and again. Who cares, right? I frankly don't know just as much, but it hurts. After a year, it still hurts. And what I say might not be true for everyone, but it is true for some people. That's what matters; because at the end of the day, that's who you have. Here in this foreign land, we have no one but ourselves. No amount of friendship can save your ass, my friend. We are all on our own.

***
There are worst cases, I know, but does anyone actually care? Why would they, my friend. They are more preoccupied with filling their bellies with nonsensical media-dramas that are disguised as legislature, and more concerned with how they and their brothers would fare in the next election. This is our part of the circle, and the fulfillment of the sacrifice. Accept it. That is what and who we are. Milking cows.

And while the rest of us are getting our asses kicked, burning the whole stock of midnight oil barrels, and stabbing our own hearts for not being able to even kiss our children on the forehead at night before they tuck in, the people who are supposed to make our lives better are too busy figuring out whether the man you voted for is having a lovelife or not. No, we are not okay; it is not another sunny day in Smallville, dude.

We are so screwed, and you know it.