Through the eyes of an OFW
By Rolo B. Cena
Arabian Diaries

Spoken undeniably true, migrant Filipino workers have been creating big waves overseas: from Asia to Africa to Australia to Europe to Canada to USA. Yes, this is what we call the “Pinoy Power” – more compelling than the art of war by Sun Tzu, more demanding than the political pressures of Malacanang Palace these days.

Time and tide had swept the Filipinos’ stability where everything was tested. From the furnace where gold was melted to the chamber where bones are broken, Filipinos have managed to survive undefeated. From Carlos P. Romulo in the United Nations to Leah Salonga in the West End to Onyok Velasco in the Sydney Olympics to Mirriam Quiambao in the Miss Universe to Manny Pacquiao in boxing – name it, Filipinos do outstand proudly.

And behind each transaction in the talent exchange market is the compelling saga of love and hate, successes and failures, marital bonds and betrayals, friendships and denials, cause and effect, and all.

As early as the 80’s, I have always opposed sending Filipino workers or talents overseas. In fact, back in college, I have written an article which condemns, among others, “brain drain phenomenon” especially when technocrats (this include managers of all kinds) are exported, literally. However, the sagging Philippine economy under the auspices of the late dictator started the exodus and forced the backward Filipino workforce to send curriculum vitae else where.

Just like anybody, I hate to hear Filipino families are broken into pieces as an uncontrolled consequence of showcasing local expertise overseas in exchange for great bucks. Family dysfunctional ties are a major concern in the catholic-controlled Filipino society to date. Moralists always condemn social evils or vices - drugs, movies, and spirits, for example. They never have come to the abyss of the human failures – the lack of controlling figure in the household, the father.

I hated Filipino children in the neighborhood, whose head of the household worked abroad, lived in material-controlled, sugar-coated familial assembly. I hated how they enjoy life without thinking about the “one” earning for them; I hated to recall how we experienced the same distortion until I realize today how it was.

I hated mothers who are spending too much without thinking of husbands abroad. I hated wives seeking refuge, or temporal bliss from nameless heavenly bodies for human wants and desires. I hated mothers and wives seeking short-cuts to earthly happiness until I saw how migrant workers seek the same parody in this foreign Kingdom where temptations display in wide arrays its variant colors of want and deception.

I found it unusual to find “fathers” crying at the departure area while waving goodbyes to loved ones until I found myself doing the same thing and experiencing the same fate.

I hated the government for allowing its precious resource to deplete helplessly; to travel uncharted routes in search for the famed “pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.” I hated government officials to do nothing for the abused overseas workers. I hated the government for not doing anything to save Flor Contemplacion but have the courage to take pictures with Leah Salonga and Manny Pacquao.

Yes, I hated all these until I became an OFW myself. I realized why millions of “kabayans” left the country and still others want to leave, and why they chose to live this way. I realized why families break, why husbands find replacements abroad and why wives settle for second best back home. I realized why kids suffer and have to suffer. I realized why things are going this way and not the way I want and wanted.

Through the eyes of an OFW, I have seen two sides of the coin. The first side glows with enthusiasm and inspiration; a face that sends a thousand and one message of true love and sacrifice for the family. The other side shows the frustration and the burden that forced an OFW to leave and work overseas. It shows discontent, hatred, and disgrace.

Through the eyes of an OFW, I see the courage to survive and the fervor to withhold personal agenda for the family. And through his sharp eyes, I see the conviction to shout one word of thousand meanings: live!


Published, Dumaguete StarInformer, 23 November 2008, Sunday Issue.