Monday, March 20, 2006
So: Leaving the American Dream, Part I
By Jocy L. So
Unraveling
LAST year, 981,337 contracts for OFWs were processed by the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration, a jump of nearly 40,000 contracts compared to 2004.
As a new crop of graduates looks into their future, undoubtedly there are many who are setting their sights on the greener pastures of the US, Canada, Japan, Australia, Europe, and the Middle East.
Nurses, doctors turned nurses, teachers, caregivers, seafarers, engineers, IT specialists, almost all college courses today are focused on supplying Filipino workers to the world.
But what about the Philippines?
In 2001, a few months before 9/11, I came home to the Philippines after five years in the US. Even after 9/11 crippled the US economy, many people here still questioned why I came back to the Philippines. What possessed me to give up a life in the land of plenty, the Land of Milk and Honey and Hershey Chocolates bars? When the American Dream that many Filipinos chase after was within my grasp, why did I come home to the Land of Broken Promises, Potbellied Policemen and Crooked Politicians? Why return to a nation of soured milk, soured people, soured dreams? Why come back home when so many Filipinos are trying to get out?
Why, why, why? Why indeed? Am I a fool? Am I a relatively intelligent individual who made a stupid mistake? Or, gosh, did an American man break my heart? Is THAT why I came back?
No. It's not that I had a bad experience in the US. I studied at Wesleyan University, a dynamic, intellectually stimulating, and open learning environment where I fell in love with history, writing essays, and (gasp!) library research.
Yes, slightly nerdy tendencies were cool in our school. Studying there challenged me and unearthed in me the desire to explore and learn NOT because I needed to but because I wanted to.
While in school, I worked and realized that even by just photocopying and answering calls 3 hours a week paid enough for me to be able to visit friends in France. In my years in college, I met a wonderful Canadian professor who nurtured and guided my academic and spiritual life. I found a group of Christians I could call my family. I hung out with Filipinos who congregated frequently over adobo, steamed rice, and turon and sang -- "Pasko na Sinta Ko" -- during the holidays. Life at Wesleyan taught me how to sled down a snowy hill on plastic cafeteria trays and plastic bags, cook pasta and stir-fry vegetables, and correctly pronounce refrigerator, comforter, Robitussin, and Nivea.
After school I moved to bum-freezing Ohio where I worked for nearly a year under generous bosses and caring co-workers. I had 3 jobs. One was for an art consultant, another for an afterschool program, and the third for a local bookstore where I got to be surrounded by my absolute favorite things. In Ohio, I found new friends, lived in a spacious apartment, and earned enough money to indulge in artsy movies, GAP clothes, fusion food, orchestra performances, and travel.
In the US, I met people from other nations. Confronted with racial tensions and issues, almost every American has to grapple with I became more sensitive about the diversity amongst people and the absolute need to accept and respect each other. Regardless of how different, strange, or annoying. I learned to be independent in US, to do my own laundry, to shop, pay my bills, meet people, get around without a car.
And yet I still came home.
Between 1981 to 2004, 912,324 Filipinos migrated to the United States. 912, 324. There are also around 2.5 million Filipino workers (both legal and not) working in the US today. Everyday, without fail, the US Embassy along Roxas Boulevard in Manila is crowded with folder-wielding Pinoys. Why are they in the Embassy? They're all trying to find some way, any way to get into the US.
No wonder. No wonder many people can't believe their ears when I tell them I came back to the Philippines to work as a teacher, A TEACHER, in Davao City, Philippines. By choice. They don't say it, but I can read it in their eyes, "naunsa man ni si Jocy?! Gaga. Tanga. Sayang. Nandun ka na, bumalik ka pa." Sayang. Sayang.
After four and a half years of being home, there have been times when I also wondered. Where those people right? Did I truly carelessly, selfishly throw away the golden opportunity to live in the states, to live the life many dream of? Or did I make the right choice to come home?
(Jocy L. So has been teaching at Davao Christian High School -- the best school in Region XI -- since she came home from the US.)
For Bisaya stories from Davao. Click here. (March 20, 2006 issue)
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