THIS series will describe experiences of overseas Filipino workers (OFWs), hoping to provide important lessons to our young readers there in Cagayan de Oro and its neighboring towns who wonder about life of an immigrant in a foreign land. So, I thought it is appropriate to start this series by sharing my own experiences as an OFW in the United States (US).
Let me tell my story.
Since we did not have much growing up, we seldom travelled. I remembered we went to Manila to meet my father during his once-a-year vacation from Saudi Arabia. Getting a work visa to the United States (US) was exhilarating for me and my family. Finally, there is hope for a better life for all of us! We started looking at maps and since computers were not available then, we 'surfed' our very old encyclopedia to get to know my destination.
I arrived in Texas in February, the middle of winter, wearing only Birkenstock sandals and a Penshoppe summer vest, not a fashion statement I like to remember, but it also did not help in keeping me warm. It was also a chilly welcome when an airport employee, who happens to be Filipino, asked $5 from each of us (there were 15 of us newly hired nurses), for showing us the domestic terminal. Bummer, because I only had $300 in my pocket to survive.
When we finally arrived in our destination, I panicked because I couldn't breathe. My poor lungs being used to the humid tropical air were now bombarded with very dry, cold air. Fortunately, I adjusted.
After arriving at the apartment, which was shared by about 50 people including myself, I took a shower and almost suffered second degree burns for not knowing that the two shower knobs were for hot and cold water. Like anything, I adapted and learned to love taking very long warm showers.
With everything else being so new and so different in the US, I had hoped my English skills would be sufficient. I was wrong. It was the slang. I could not decipher the idioms being used by Americans in their everyday speech. I visited a local bookstore hoping to find a dictionary for American slang, but none was available. Not only did I have to deal with slangs and idioms, there were also differences in accents between races and regions, which made it even more challenging. Our American co-workers would complain that we would just giggle in the corner. They thought we were rude, but in reality, it was a survival skill on our part because we could only share our daily funny experiences among ourselves. We were verbally accosted because we tended to think first and formulate our sentences, before responding.
Even the food was different. Since we did not have a car, our employer took us to get our groceries. Inside a grocery store was a McDonald's; the burgers were as big as my face! Even the groceries were larger and the choices seemed endless - real milk, chocolate milk, strawberry milk, fifty kinds of cheeses, eggplants as large as my dog's head, and, get this, you could pick and taste the grapes before buying them! It was mind blowing.
My new job and duties in a nursing home were a real eye opener. Since we had not taken the licensure exam, yet, we worked as nurse aids. I volunteered immediately, because I wanted to quickly earn some money to send back home. I was assigned in the bedridden wing. Most of the patients were completely immobile and morbidly obese. I learned how to use a crane to lift patients in order to clean their messes, change their beds, and transfer them to a chair. One of the female patients was so large that five of me could hide behind that poor woman's body. Every day, I became more skilled at carrying and transferring huge dead weights to a chair, line them up on the hallway, and cart them to the dining area. It was such an art feeding all of them. I had ten of these patients in front of me, secured in their gyri chairs, and prepped with snappy bibs. The turkey baster, with which I fed them was my friend, together with some personal protective devices (e.g., gown, mask, and goggles). Spewed food was flying everywhere.
Work was hard, but at the end of the day, I was thankful. Thankful for my family, thankful for my life. My patients were the ones with little to be thankful. Most of them never had family members to visit them. Thinking about families hit me hard. I was so homesick!