20 years later...

Last Sunday I went to visit my kamaganak (extended family) that I haven’t seen in twenty years. Needless to say, I didn’t recognize any of them. Although some of my cousins’s faces and names seemed familiar, their children, my pamangkin (nephews and nieces) were not. I even met what technically would be called my granddaughter. The big joke was that she should call me Lolo (grandpa) Allan. Still, it was strange having these teenagers and twenty year olds call me tito (uncle), when tito is what I call my elders. (My nieces call me Uncle Allan back home) I occasionally would slip up and call my kuyas or ates (older cousins) tito or tita, simply because they were about double my age. Still, I’m glad to say, it was the first time I actually felt at home in the Philippines. It was the first time I actually felt genuine care and concern from Filipinos. This is not to say that the teachers and staff at the program, or my classmates, or my host family don’t give a fuck about me, the opposite is true. They all very much care about me, but in a professional sense. I know that it is a service they are providing, and although there are of course moral obligations: I am a “human” being after all, I also know that at the end of the day, the only thing that ties us together is a loose friendship and a bureaucratic network.

In Imus however I finally felt home sick. There were all these conversations about my family back in the states, how they are doing, what are they up to, if so and so is still fat (you can guess who they are talking about), if so and so is still working, if so and so lives close to so and so etc. In Imus, I actually felt somewhat comfortable speaking Tagalog. Unlike at the program and around other students, I didn’t feel like I was under pressure (for a grade or for some weird interstudent competition), I finally felt like people wanted to hear what I was trying to express, rather than just if my grammar was correct. Although they obviously corrected me and guided me in my speech, they were also the most encouraging out of everyone that I had previously spoken to. I think they were impressed that I really wanted to learn Tagalog as well as Philippine culture and history, that I really wanted to hear how they experience life and expressed themselves in their language, rather than force them to enter into the uncomfortable lingual space of English. They kept repeating how whenever some of my other extended family members from the U.S. visited, they would be mahiyain (embarrassed) to speak up, because they were afraid of making mistakes in English. Moreover they get confused whenever people speak in English too fast, or use too many slang terms, so they just nod their heads, pretend they understand, and smile. I don’t want to leave the impression that they are in some way less apt to understand English, or do not have the ability to comprehend English, rather I would like to point out that from this I gather that a less real, or less honest form of communication occurs during these brief visits. Moreover although my visit was very short (about 6 hours), I felt like I expressed more about myself than I usually do at family gatherings in the U.S. Still they were very appreciative of my father and mother’s visits, as well as my older brother and sister, since they speak Tagalog and always try to make time to check-in while they are in the Philippines. Yet, as previously mentioned I actually felt homesick, or at least, I really wished members of my immediate family were there to experience all of these things at the same time. Still, I’m glad I went on my own, just so I could attempt to articulate, in Tagalog, my own autobiography, without utilizing one of my family members as a translator or a crutch. At this point, I really don’t know how to translate my feelings into this text, and I know that this will be a recurring feeling. Still I know that at this moment, I truly desire to meet and get to know further the rest of my family spread out across the Philippines, and to let them know that although I might have “forgotten” their faces and names over the two decades I’ve been away, I never forgot that they were here, and I hope they never forget that I am here as well.

Some quick and random lines of what I did and what I saw while visiting family in Imus.

1. The Pac-Man’s fight, delayed of course, but libre!

2. I found out that my Kuyas work as seamen (another popular gendered OFW labor) on cruise ships and my nephew is about to set sail for a year next month. (they also only get about a 2 hour break when they are at port)

3. I broke my oath of sobriety (sorry mom and pebs) by drinking Red Wine with ice…YUM!

4. My granddaughter really appreciates all the dolls my mom gives her.

5. Every one of my cousins own sari-sari stores, and my Kuya Jun owns a pedi-cab. (how cool is that?)

6. I went with all my pamangkin to the internet café in order to “mag-myspace” and “mag-facebook”. I ended up playing counter-strike on the LAN with all of them (11 of us in all). I really sucked and shot my teammates a lot. I was able to pay for all of us for an hour with about 100 pisos (a little over 2 bucks). Which leads to number 7:

7. Me and my ates compared prices and standards of living between the U.S. and the Philippines. They asked me if life was hard in the U.S., I said yes, but then I had to backtrack because of all the things like what Americans take as a global standard: appliances, decent transportation, living space, groceries, hospitals etc. are not common the Philippines.

8. Two of my ates are guros. (yay education!)

9. My little niece (who isn’t that little) is in college to be a nurse. She wouldn’t mind going to the U.S., but is weary of the discrimination and the possible labor scams. My family is totally on fucking point. (Yay family!)