Overseas Filipino Workers-New Heroes or Mad Heroes

By BERNARDO VILLEGAS

September 9, 2010, 4:33pm

As can be inferred from the recent row created by pilots of Philippine Airlines accepting jobs from foreign airlines, many of our overseas workers are definitely not coming from the poorest households of the Philippines. 

In fact, a study commissioned by the Asian Development Bank about Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWS) already confirmed that it is not the poorest of the poor who actually seek jobs abroad.

 What with placement fees and other deposits that can amount to as much as P100,000, there is no way the poor can successfully land a job overseas. It is not accurate, then, to say that it is poverty that drives Filipinos to go abroad for employment. It is more accurate to say that it is wage or income differentials that motivate Filipinos to work abroad.

For this reason, we should expect that even if our poverty line should drop to below 10 percent, we will still have millions of Filipinos going abroad for two complementary reasons: there will always be large wage or income differentials between the Philippines and the more developed economies and Filipinos workers and professionals are in greater demand abroad than most other nationalities. 

This demand especially comes from the highly developed countries in North America, Europe, and Northeast Asia that are irreversibly suffering from the so-called demographic winter.

 At least for the next 50 years, whatever the family planning advocates in the Philippines may do, the Philippines will have a surplus of able-bodied workers and professionals who, by economic choice, will want to work abroad, at least for a certain period of their lives.

 These workers and professionals will be increasingly in the fields of health care, information technology, education, management, tourism, engineering, land, sea, and air transport, and other personal services.

In the next 20 years, however, as the Philippines still struggles to significantly reduce mass poverty, we will not be able to avoid sending many of our females to work abroad as household services workers (HSWs), especially to territories like Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore, Saudi Arabia, and other Middle Eastern countries. 

HSWs are among those who come from the poorer households and are driven to make sacrifices (including leaving their children) in order to help their families live more comfortable lives. As Labor Secretary Rosalinda Baldoz said during a consultative meeting with the DoLE's labor attaches recently:

 "There is a call for the DoLE to really make a serious effort to protect the most vulnerable of our OFWs--the household service workers--so it is high time for us to review the HSW reform package."

As reported by GMA News, Secretary Baldoz impressed upon the labor attache corps the need to quickly bring home all distressed OFWs, particularly the HSWs, in all Filipino Workers Resource Centers all over the world. She also reminded them to ensure they are given full and complete social and economic assistance to facilitate their re-integration into their families and home communities upon their return.

 Among other measures emphasized was to ensure that the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority (TESDA) would improve the quality of its skills assessment and certification system for HSWs before they leave for abroad

I would like to belabor the last point. Instead of trying to phase out the deployment of HSWs in foreign countries, which move would be clearly anti-poor as already explained above, the government should exert all efforts to work with TESDA and the numerous private technical training schools to improve the quality of our HSWs. 

In many developed countries, especially in Europe, the task of managing a home has already become as dignified an occupation as nursing, teaching and restaurant management. The figure of what we have derogatorily called a "muchacha" or "tsimay" is disappearing. 

In her place is a professional--who does not have to live in the house of the employer — who combines the talents of operating modern appliances, culinary arts, language teaching to children, and other skills that are deployed in a modern household. 

These types of home managers are already being produced by local schools like Punlaan in San Juan, Anihan in Calamba, or Banilad in Cebu. It would be worthwhile for the DoLE and the recruiting agencies to touch base with these technical schools for them to have an idea of the modern home manager so that there is no need to think that exporting HSWs is giving the Philippines a bad image. For comments, my e-mail address is bvillegas@uap.edu.ph.

How my sons lost their Tagalog, Sulat kay James Soriano

By Benjamin Pimentel

 15share212 184

SAN FRANCISCO—My wife and I decided early on that Tagalog was going to be our sons’ first language.

It wasn’t easy.

In his first days in pre-school, our first-born was miserable, intimidated by a world in which pretty much everyone spoke English.

But his pediatrician said not to worry about it. Experts said not to worry about it. They even said that it’s good for kids to be exposed to many languages, that they, eventually, will adjust and adapt.

And my son did.

It didn’t take long for Paolo to be fluent in English, although he later, sadly, lost his Tagalog.

His younger brother grew up with a kuya who spoke to him in English. They had some funny moments. Anton would struggle to tell his big brother, “Eh kuya, I just ano.. uh.. because … maglaro naman tayo.”

But like his kuya, it didn’t take long for Anton to shift from Pilipino to English. And sadly, he, too, lost his Tagalog.

Well, they didn’t actually “lose” it.

It’s still there. They can understand, but would not speak it.

But the spirit of my Mother Tongue is still part of them. I hope someday that they get a chance to use it again, to be immersed once again in that world. It’ll be up to them.

Which brings me to James Soriano, the Ateneo senior, whose essay on his own struggles with English and Pilipino sparked a heated controversy, especially on the Web.

Now, this may surprise many, but I’m glad he wrote that essay. It inspired me to write him a letter.

–

Dear James,

Unang una, maraming salamat.

Mabigat ang dating ng sinulat mo. At alam kong bugbog ka ngayon sa mga puna at batikos.

Pero dahil sa iyo, nagkaroon ng debate. Dahil sa ‘yo, pinag-uusapan, pinag-iisipan ang papel ng wika sa buhay natin, sa bayan natin, lalo na ng mga kabataang tulad mo.

Ipagtatanggol ko ang karapatan mong sabihin ang sinabi mo. Salubungin mo lang yong mga puna, ‘yong mga ideyang kontra sa mga pananaw mo. Kung hindi mo tanggap, okay lang. Pero harapin mo pa rin.

Ganyan naman tayo umuunlad at natutuo.

Ngayon, tungkol doon sa sinabi mo na Pilipino “is not the language of the learned” –  sakit mo namang magsalit p’re.

+ + +

Do you really believe the implied equations in what you wrote?

English = Classy, smart people.

Pilipino = Stupid, lowbrow, very emotional people.

For I can share with you several instances when knowing just English (and Pilipino) really made me feel un-learned.

One was when I was in Cotabato in the late 1980s as a reporter covering the Lumads, the tribal Filipinos struggling against militarization and social injustice. I don’t speak Cebuano. They didn’t speak English or Pilipino.

We needed help.

And that help came from an unexpected source—a  kind-hearted Italian priest named Father Peter Geremia, who spoke Italian, English, and Cebuano. (I’m guessing he also speaks Tagalog since he had lived in Manila where he got involved in the protests against the Marcos dictatorship in the 1970s.)

It was one of the oddest interviews in my career as a journalist.

Here was this white dude from Europe helping me understand and communicate with my own people. He knew their language. I didn’t. My grasp of English couldn’t bridge that gap.

Father Peter was the learned one. Not me.

+ + +

Sabi mo, “Filipino is like a chore, like washing the dishes; it was not the language of learning. It was the language we used to speak to the people who washed our dishes.”

Pag nagkita tayo, Tagalugin mo ako. Kasi, bagamat ang hanap buhay ko sa Amerika e nakabatay sa kakayanan kong umingles, kasama ng buhay ko dito ang paghugas ng pinggan.

Oo, may dishwasher sa bahay namin. Pero, alam mo, pag mga malalaking kaldero ang katapat, puno ng mga latak ng mantika at tirang ulam, kinukuskos ko nang husto ‘yon, p’re.

–

Obviously, many got upset because of what they felt was your stunningly condescending view of those who speak Pilipino.

Well, I must confess, I also once had an intense bias against another language: Spanish.

You see, when Filipinos of my generation were in college, we had to learn Spanish, four semesters of it.

We hated it. We thought it was useless. We were offended that we had to learn the language of the conquistador, of the Padre Damasos and Padre Salvis. Of the conio kids!

Then I moved to California.

Boy, do I regret not taking those Spanish courses seriously.

For Spanish may have been the language of the hoity toity back home. But in California, it’s the language of middle class and working class people, of immigrants like me. Many of them may seem like the people you somewhat derisively referred to in your essay as the tinderos and the katulongs.

As a journalism student, I had to run around the U.S.- Mexico border and came face-to-face with poor Mexicans and Central Americans in Tijuana and Mexicali.

How I wished I could speak really fluent Spanish then.

As a reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle I was assigned to cover immigration and affirmative action, which took me to Latino neighborhoods all over the Bay Area.

How I tried to find the Spanish-speaking me.

But there was no such person. There was only English. And English couldn’t help me out. Knowing English didn’t make me feel learned.

–

Binigo rin ako ng Ingles noong unang pagtatangka kong sumulat ng nobela.

Sa Ingles ko unang sinubukang buuin ang “Mga Gerilya sa Powell Street.” Sa San Francisco ang setting, kaya, siyempre, inisip kong dapat Ingglisin.

Pero ayaw makisama ng mga tauhan. Iyong mga beteranong nakatambay sa may cable car stop sa San Francisco, ayaw umingles. Kahit anong gawin ko, hindi umuusad ang kuwento.

Para bagang sinasabi ng mga matatanda, ‘E bakit mo ba kami pinag Iingles Boying, e mga Pilipino kami.’

Kaya kumambyo ako. Sinulat ko sa Pilipino. Saka umarangkada ang kuwento. Nabuhay ang mga tauhan.

Sarap ng pakiramdam.

–

You want to know why I wanted our children to learn Tagalog? Because when I moved to the U.S., I met many young Filipino Americans who were disappointed, a few were even angry, that their parents didn’t teach them Pilipino, didn’t expose them to Filipino culture.

It’s really strange, in a way.

Here you are declaring that Pilipino is “not the language of the learned … not the language of privilege.”

But here where I live now, thousands of miles from our homeland, young Filipino Americans who yearn for the privilege of speaking that language, who are searching for ways to embrace Pilipino.

They take Tagalog lessons, even learn the Baybayin, the original Tagalog script. They even have Baybayin script tattooed on their bodies.

Joey Ayala, the folk singer who lived in Berkely for a time, put it best when he told me, “Things that are distinctly Filipino are often more valuable to Filipino Americans. Filipinos in the Philippines look to the American dream. Filipinos in the United States have the Philippine dream.”

–

You caused quite a stir with what you wrote, James. I’m sure you’re still reeling from the criticisms.

But like I said, I’ll defend your right to express your views, even if I disagree with many of them.

That’s how we learn, after all. I’m guessing your views may still evolve, grow wings, take flight.

I actually see the backlash as a good sign. It tells me that young people feel strongly about these issues, about language, culture and society. (I don’t get Jejemon, but hey, that’s part of the debate, of the process of finding answers.)

And it’s important to remember that culture and language are not static. They change.

Consider some of the big changes over the past 20 years.

When I was growing up in Manila, pretty much all the TV newscasts were in English.  When I was growing up, we got fined for speaking in Tagalog on campus. Five centavos a word!

Well, okay, I hear that still happens in some schools. But I also hear there’s a congressional bill trying to put an end to that silly practice. Progress!

Even my eldest son’s attitude toward his first language has been changing. He used to tell me that he really didn’t want to speak Tagalog anymore, “Because it’s not cool, Tatay.”

Well, when the Black Eyed Peas’ Apl de Ap’s ‘’Apple Song’’ and ‘’Bebot’’ became hits, that changed. Suddenly, Tagalog was “cool.”

And during our last visit to Manila, he even realized the value of his Tagalog-speaking self when he witnessed a street fight in Ermita.

“I understood what they were saying, Tatay,” he said. “One was saying, ‘That’s mine. ‘Akin yan.’”

I imagine that he could very well have been talking about his Tagalog.

For while it’s buried within him, it’s still his. It’s still there.

Nandoon pa rin.