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Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Encila: The truth about coming home
By Robert Encila
Musings
"No matter how we perceive the land of milk and honey, and no matter how big a piece we're entitled to eat from the great pie in the sky, a transplanted Filipino will always crave to go back to his roots."
TUCSON, Arizona -- I left the Philippines in March of 1980 as an awe-struck teenager with a baggage full of dreams. America had been a mythical entity until I arrived in the cool premises of San Francisco, where the brisk spring air greeted my alien nostrils and the collective slang of the English language toyed with my fragile confidence.
It didn't take long for reality to settle in. Huddled comfortably with my family in a small apartment in Arizona, I was intensely aware of the epic challenge of my new environment. For months I struggled with pangs of isolation, aching to connect with the extended family and friends I had left behind. I knew I would have to grow up fast and get used to a lot of changes ahead of me.
Twenty-five years later, I'm proud to say that the shock is over. I think I've managed well in terms of assimilating the culture that once seemed daunting enough to send me packing for home.
No matter how we perceive the land of milk and honey, and no matter how big a piece we're entitled to eat from the great pie in the sky, a transplanted Filipino will always crave to go back to his roots.
No taste can arouse the palate like the food we grew up with. No five-star resort compares to the tropical paradise we frolicked in. No music brings more comfort to the ear than the organic jabber of our native tongue. This is a privileged conflict unfamiliar to Filipinos raised in America.
To say that I miss home is a true understatement. I might come across as a walking contradiction, though, given my embarrassing record as a balikbayan. I have returned home three times in a quarter of a century, which is probably enough evidence to write me off as a deserter, spoiled by the good graces and luxury of the new world.
This casual judgment couldn't be farther from the truth. In fact, many Filipino-Americans in my midst are caught in a similar bind that compels them to repeatedly evaluate the stakes of leaving a current situation for an extended visit to the Philippines.
Unlike Mexican immigrants in Arizona, whose home is accessible a few hours across the border, Filipino-Americans have the impossible karma of living thousands of miles across the ocean from their native home.
A weekend round trip is unheard of. A week gives you enough time to recover from the jet lag and get re-accustomed to roosters as morning creatures. For a longer stay, one must juggle the awesome implications of a demanding job, a dependent family, and the enormous expense of going home.
Speaking of cost, airlines aren't exceptionally friendly to those of us whose vacations happen to fall during peak flying season. While most of us can adjust to such annoying commercial requisite, we still have to consider the unwritten law to care for expectant relatives, most of whom, with all due respect, have a consistently expanded image of the size of your purse. Christmas is no less meaningful in July with a balikbayan in town.
At day's end, many homesick Filipinos find comfort in the safe alternative of staying put, keeping their familiar routines in motion, and turning an otherwise expensive trip into some real cash for loved ones back home. It doesn't replace the joy of being there, nor does it alleviate the acute pain of missing home, but it provides a tangible proof of one's effort to bond and lend a helping hand.
Thankfully we have come to an era in which technology renders our distance less significant. Gone are the days of waiting for weeks to complete a written correspondence; e-mail took care of that. Proliferation of phone cards has relieved the stress of counting costly minutes.
For someone entrenched in workload and multiple responsibilities halfway across the globe, this will have to do for now.
* * * * *
A 15-year Fil-American veteran in theater education and a co-owner of a drama and art school in Tucson with his wife Ginny, the author has performed internationally as a singer, actor, director, guitarist and pianist. His website is at www.studioconnections.net
For Bisaya stories from Davao. Click here. (June 22, 2005 issue)
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