Chelie

What is the feeling of being far from the place you belong? Thousands miles separated from lands and waters across.

Boredom, struggling in language barrier, culture shocked and some other difficulties, yes this is the feeling of an Overseas Filipino Worker.

As one of the millions OFW around the world either it is in America, Europe, Middle East and in other parts of Asia. The “truth” it is a huge sacrificed being abroad and “lies” for telling they are blissful. Why the terms sacrifice? Leaving somebody extremely near to your heart, how easy it is? In fact isn’t easy at all. For the first step you cried but you are keeping one will and it is the “passion” which will change to your life. To the person who’s depending on you for their necessity, the care that you can’t give for now has been covered by the dollars, euros, dinar, riyal and other currencies. We are keeping behind some important ethics which make as degrading our self in front of others.

I’m proud to be a Filipino; I admired our dedication to work, the enhancement and improvements of our learning. But what are the reasons why some of us walk in a wrong way? It is always acknowledged as a “wrong way” but I’m trying to speculate what is the right term for this. The picture of an individual in deeper and logical sight, it is a natured of us being warm and having a freedom of expressions either it is in our dress, enjoyment, feelings and etc. I noticed that the limit we provided are flowing than the necessity we required. Some of us can’t control ourselves it is like a temptation over mind.  We are tempted to do what will make us worth even though the facts will compensate us the dignity that we preserve.  

Either one of us has no rights to condemned and question. How painful it is to be accused in general because of others? Until when I will walk without a question mark on my face, I hope that time will come to heal all the sufferings of an OFW in unquestionable and descent way.

We are all human beings and nobody’s perfect either am I, once we walked in uncorrected path it doesn’t mean it is the end there is another path that will give you a more light.

Since childhood I never wonder why I’m having the ugliest hands. I know it is not smooth as a candle either soft as cotton. It is a small hand with the appearance for the old ones.  

In year and years of my life it is continuously fractured from the outside.

At the aged of four I drew before I learned to write my first name. Once by mistake I stitched my finger in a sewing machine when I’m twelve in a practiced to join a division sewing competition. It’s hardened by a home made glue to make a paper mosaic. Maybe twice or thrice I hammered it and the nail got died for making wooden crafts. It is painted by different colors of oil pastel, water colors, dyed, charcoal, acrylic, pencil and pen. Pottery and sculpturing that made it whitened and dusted. Tired in writing poems, essays and short stories in times I don’t have a personal computer to use. Burned and cut to design fruits and vegetables during food presentation. I can’t count how many “pastillas” and pastries I did for sale to have an extra income when I’m in college. Boxes of company files I arranged and to confirmed until midnight.

Should I feel bashful to shake hands neither a French men nor other people, I don’t think so.

Time to times I look at it; it’s getting more beautiful and meaningful and I can’t see anymore my ugliest hands.

Once I look up in the mirror I can’t see the reflection of my self. It’s not the girl with bliss in her lips.

Confusions, doubt and anxiousness…

My small eyes are struggling in liquefy substance that in any moment will ready to explode. Confusions for the path that I’m walking, in every bend of the road I stop. Which way I will persist? How if it is not the correct one, I should renege?

Doubt for my own capability that time will come that I can’t give any valuable moments for someone. Anxiousness is the consequence of my broken promises.

Before a child who sketched her own life, whose fascinated to the world of dreams using her colored pastel. Guidelines, restrictions and principles the unfinished book that written by a young girl. I opened my heart to everyone; my poems are my journal, the pain, aspiration, affection and merriment.

I followed the rule of business; long and short term relationships the risk is failure. During the boom I run, unexplainable or maybe insanity. Which things I frightened? To be committed in neither my entire life nor they failed for my expectations.

As a fighter of my own idealism, who believed that “Love” is explained by hope, faith and charity. Giving “HOPE” to the individuals who needed me most. A “FAITH” for the dreams of young girl pieces, and “CHARITY” for every help I can give either quality or quantity.

A humanist with a wounded “soul” and having a heart broke in a million pieces. In a war that I declared nearly to surrender, should I continue my battle?

Why and what went wrong? Perhaps I’m not good enough behind of all this. I never ask in returned, what should I get but nothing.

Again, I can’t see my face clearly. It’s only an image of a lady who thought that she’s tough enough and egoistic for her self.

Searching for the real I am is now my own battle for my self, if I will win the real bliss in my lips will see again.

Noli Me Tangere/ El Filibusterismo – This two classical Filipino novel of our national hero Dr. Jose Rizal is my all time favorites. It showed how the Spaniard treated us for almost three hundred years of invasions. From the churches up to their government, “meztizo” to “indiyo”, Juan Crisostomo Ibarra turn Simon.

Gapo – I know this book almost 11 years ago but I didn’t try to read it that time. Only two novels of Lualhati Bautista which are “Bata, Bata Paano Ka Ginawa?” and “Dekada 70” I read that time as part of our school report. When I read “Gapo” its help me to understand what is the life of our people in Olangapo when the American using Subic Bay as their military base. Now I know when the Filipina start their mentality to married an American.

Luha ng Buwaya – When I’m 15 years old I read this book of Amado Hernandez. It’s help and motivates me to write poetry and inspired me a lot. The humiliation of land owner to the poor farmers, and how the farmers fight to this battle of above and under.

Tuesday’s with Morrie – In one day I finished reading this book, first It’s took my curiosity not because this is one of the best seller book in the world. Only I know this is one of my college professor’s favorite. I read it and I amazed to this real life story, an old man whose fighting to death and until to his last breath want to inspired people.

Girl With A Pearl Earring – The innocent Griet painted by his master Velmeer using Pearl earring of her Madame. It’s amazed me I like the combinations of mysterious story with the mix of art.

A Brother’s Journey (Surviving a Childhood of Abused) – Again the real life story always touch readers, I can’t believe that how a little boy hide the truth that they are brutally abused by his mentally sick mother.

The Purpose Driven Life – I don’t have any idea about this book, during my vacation in Philippines my best friends handed this to me as a gift. Chapter by chapter every day it’s teaching me what is my purpose and for what I’m living.

The Dalai Lama’s Book Of Love & Compassions – Like the Purpose Driven Life the Dalai Lama’s Book of Love and Compassion is almost same they teach how to do clean living.

Jane Eyre – The strong will of Jane inspired me, her artistic hand and how she survived from a childhood abused and to become a governess and follow her step toward her true love.

Filipino Short Stories

Isandaang Damit – A poor child, who became alienated by her classmates, found out a way to cover her true condition by drawing a dress of a hundred kinds.

Lalapindangowa - I – A fable of a grasshopper married to a shrimp and to an egg. I love the story.

Gilingang Bato – I can’t remember the writer but I like the narrative how a lady using her “gilingang bato” to make a native rice cake to provide her family needs.

Tata Selo – Again a poor farmer against the greedy land lord and how this people used their power to abused the innocent.

Minsan sa aking pag-iisa, tinanong ko sa aking sarili ito ba ang daan na nais kong tahakin? Paano kung mali, magsisisi ba ako? Ilan sa mga katanungan na minsan bumabagabag sa mga gabing sa tuwina’y aking binibilang.

Mga luhang ayaw na atang pumatak sa aking mga mata. Pasaning ipinatong sa aking  balikat ito ba’y obligasyon o isang responsibilidad. Pangarap ko lang nuon na magsuot na itim na toga upang matakasan ang kamangmangan. Makapagtrabaho na kahit papaano’y makatulong sa aking umaasang pamilya. Naranasan ang init ng araw sa paghahanap ng mapapasukan, titigan ng mula ulo hanggang paa at sapitin ang lipunan ng mapanuring diskriminasyon. Salaping nasa aking mga kamay tila ayaw kong pakawalan, marahil ito’y bunga nang hirap sa aking pagpupuyat at tensyon sa dami ng mga papel na bumabaha sa aking harapan. 

Bakit hindi ko ninais na pintahan nang samut-saring kulay ang hindi naman kaputiang  balat o magsuot ng mga burloloy na aagaw atensyon sa aking itsura. Ni hindi ko nga tinangkang suotin ang mga pitis na damit na tila umiipit sa aking katawan. Mga ngiting tila itinahi na sa aking labi na kahit galit ay di nabubura. 

Mga sulating walang wakas at mga ginuhit na iniwan na walang kulay, hindi ko alam kung kalian ba matatapos. Isang anino nang aking nakalipas na hanggang ngayon ay aking tinatakbuhan at nais nang takasan.

Oo, ako’y isang babae ito ang aking pinili walang alinlangan o pagsisisi man. Ninais kong maging malaya tulad sa aking mga tula at mga kamay na gumuguhit.

I can’t stop the water going out in my eyes when I saw my Form 138, it’s not a grade that I had but a section I’m belong. I cried for three days and I feel isolated we’re been together for almost eight years and for the last year of my high school it’s happened. Even the girls are my classmates in elective before, still I feel different my best and closest friends that I’m afraid to lose and too much uncertainties that continuous coming in my mind.

First day of class, I tried to sit on the back chair of the class room. Mostly the boy’s classmate didn’t know me and they look me as in the interrogation. I joined a group of girls and boys it’s a feeling of exploration for me being a simple student. Cutting classes that once I tried together with my groups and going to a house’s to watch a movie. I’m happy that there’s a drafting subject so I informed my teacher that I wanted to transfer unfortunately she refused. Being a cafeteria and Restaurant Management and Services is not my dream. I’m not angry with her even she didn’t allowed me, since I get frustrated putting my art desire in carving a radish, carrots, tomatoes, etc. to design food and tables.

Conversation under a cacao tree regarding the issues of religions, politics and some idealistic topics. A time that some of my boys classmate get confused that I will be an artist designer or a writer. I feel affection for drawing since I’m a child and the age of fourteen I’m eager to write poetry. Our own class prophecy that once I wrote and revised by him under this tree. Behind my El Filibusterismo book that I asked to signs and leave notes from my friends and classmates. My teacher in Filipino that told us to write an essay with a theme of ten years from now on, my sentences begin with this “Halos hindi ko marinig ang aking pangalan sa lakas ng palakpakan.” I wrote that I received a Palanca Award for writing; because of this my teacher told a class to give a three count of applause. An overwhelming experienced from all of them, time that my hand didn’t stop in drawing and writing. Breathing in my own world of arts and literatures are the oxygen that keeping me alive in that time.

Days are tearing in the calendar, feeling of excitement behind the worries for the next journey of my life. Every moment is a special day, Junior and Senior Prom, Baccalaureate Mass, then our graduation day. Even he’s not my first dance during our prom; the beat of my heart is louder than the sweet music playing. I feel the coldness and shaking of his hand, and then I decided to finish my awaiting dance in the middle. Unpredictable love, I don’t know how I will call it. Then it is the start of his running away from me and I decided not to follow him.

One by one they are calling our names, the sign of a beginning of our new journeys. No tears but only laughter’s.