Saipan Impressions

Adios and Si Yu'us Maasi Saipan

2007-04-07T04:57:00.000-07:00

Date of arrival in saipan: February 8, 2006
Date of departure: February 10, 2007
Length of stay: 367 days

At the Francisco Ada International Airport prior to my departure. With my badminton friends - Cathy, Cecile and Cecile's cousin. February 10, 2007

Thank you and Goodbye Saipan.

After one year and 2 days, I am leaving the island which has served as my temporary home. An island where I experienced and learned a lot of things about myself and about other people.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the improvement in my financial status which has allowed me to afford a two month sabbatical. Two months which helped me re-discover relationships which were important to me. Relationships with my family and my friends.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the chance to feel varied emotions in a more intense manner. Thank you for the experience of fear, hate, love, affection, hurt, gratitude and many more. Thank you for the appreciation which helped boost my confidence.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the chance to be one of the living heroes of my country. Thank you for the OFW experience. Now I know the struggles and the rewards of being a contract worker. The good and the not so good side.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the new acquaintances and friends. Thank you for the companionships albeit temporary and fleeting. Thank you for the chance to share my humanity with others and to experience others' humanity too. I am enriched with such experiences.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the chance to work in a multi-cultural environment. Thank you for a chance to see work in a different backdrop. Thank you for the new learnings specially about US labor laws.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. Thank you for the chance to appreciate where I came from. Thank you for making me see my previous company in a different light. Thank you for the opportunity to compare what I had before and what I have now.

Thank you and goodbye saipan. For the many experiences which you made me go through for the past 367 days. The learnings and unlearnings which has helped me be the person I am right now.

This is my last entry in this blog. Goodbye Saipan. Thank you for everything!

Saipan in Figures and Images

2007-01-31T22:36:00.000-08:00

Average population - 70,000

Minimum wage - $3.05/hour

Average cost of lunch in a Pinoy carinderia - $3.00
(includes rice, ulam and a drink)

Cost of taxi fare (yung colorum na Korean taxi) - $3 per trip

Number of Mayors - 4 (Saipan, Tinian, Rota and the Northern Islands)

Number of Senators - 9 Senators

Number of Representatives - 14 representatives

Allowance for one member of the house (equivalent siguro ng pork barrel sa Pilipinas) - $155,000 per year

Average electricity bill - $91/month for 33kwh consumption

5 gal. of mineral water - $2.00

Breakfast Meal in McDonald's - $4.99
(Sausage McMuffin, Coffee and Hash Brown)

Service charge for remittance to the Philippines - $5 per transaction

Service charge for 1 balikbayan box regardless of weight - $50 in LBC/$40 to $45 in other companies

Cost of one turon - $1

One loaf of bread - $1.70 (pero kung one-day old na yung bread, 50% discount na)

2 pcs. chicken meal in KFC - $5.29 (kaya lang hindi kasing sarap ng gravy ng KFC sa Pilipinas ang gravy ng KFC dito)

Fare to Tinian - $64 round trip

Average time for a plane ride to Tinian - 10 minutes

Type of plane that flies to Tinian - di ko alam. basta 6-seater sya (I think I have to ask John)

Average fare to Rota - $149 round trip

Type of plane that flies to Rota - di ko rin alam.

A Car Story

2007-01-30T17:59:00.000-08:00

My Car and I

You were more than a car. You were a silent witness to a life!

One of the questions asked during my job interview for Saipan was, "Do you know how to drive?"

I didn't know how to drive that time so my answer was, "I could learn." (I never had my own car before so I didn't think it was necessary to learn how to drive. In Manila, public transport was available anyway.)

When I came to Saipan, it was my first time to have my own car.

I had a 2003 Mitsubishi Outlander. I just wanted something that could bring me from point A to point B without hassles but I got so much more than what I bargained for.

The car taught me a difficult lesson about trust. It was a painful lesson that cost me another dream. The dream of owning a laptop. You see, after 3 months, I discovered that the car needed major repairs. It was so perfect on the outside (I never had a car, so I didn't know anything about cars except models and prices) but it had a lot of stories to tell inside. I spent close to $1,200 to replace the parts. And to think I only had the car for 3 months. That experience made me realize that someone whom I thought was a good and sincere friend turned out to be nothing but a hoax.

After that experience, I forced myself to move on.

The car never had problems after that. I felt at home in it. It brought me from where I wanted to go and at the same time, it gave me confidence in my driving skills.

My red car has been a good car. It was my place of prayer and meditation. I used to live in Garapan area for 9 months and the 20 minute drive to Chalan Kanoa afforded me my "quiet time." I am not a very religious person but I am proud to say that I am more spiritual than religious.

I drive from Garapan to CK, passing by the Beach Road. For the past 9 months, I was a silent witness to the beauty of nature and I can't help but be awed by the wonderful artistry of a God who made all these.

I was a witness to the blue, green and calm waters of the beach. (My favorite spot is the stretch from 13 Fisherman Monument to Toyota Microl). I was a witness to the bright red-orange petals of the flame trees. Flame trees are my favorite trees. One of the fondest memories I have of summer was when we travelled from Puerto Princesa to El Nido in Palawan. The whole stretch of the road was lined with flame trees. Alone and definitely homesick in Saipan, the flame trees in full bloom bring me back to that wonderful summer.

I was a witness when the rains started to come in June and when the flowers fell into the ground covering the Beach Road in orange carpet. I felt like a queen driving in a carpeted road.

My car was a witness to the human side of me. The various emotions that charactize my person. The excitement I felt while driving to the airport at 3a.m. to fetch my friends, the joy of having them and driving them around the island for 10-days in August, the pain of saying goodbye to them, the frustrations, the giddiness after seeing my crush (he!he!), the conversations with friends, the fear of evacuating after hearing the tsunami warnings, the memorizations, the dreams, the discussions, arguments and tender emotional moments with an officemate and the mundane concerns of every day.

My car was a place where I sang out loud to Better Days, Fast Car, Subcity, You Learn, Someone to Watch Over me and more. It was a place where Cecille and I would sing our hearts out while driving in the dark street of Middle Road and Beach Road. It was a place to listen to the music of MartinNievera, Alanis Morisette, Tracy Chapman, Nina, Eraserheads, the Beatles, James Ingram, John Denver, John Mayer, MYMP, Hotdogs and many more.

When I sold it 2 weeks ago, I felt sad. I realized that I had developed an emotional attachment to the car. It saw me through the various phases of my life here in Saipan and now that I am leaving, it has to go too.

I wonder when will I ever have my own car again. In a year? In a couple of years? I want to have the same kind - Mitsubishi Outlander. But I promised myself that when that time comes, I am buying it brand new!

Picture Perfect ( A Poem for B)

2007-01-26T16:53:00.000-08:00

I sit across your lunch table
Grinning perpetually
Like a therapist on prozac.

I listen intently as you tell me
Stories of your conquests
The latest string of women who
have consecrated themselves at your altar.

You thrive in this hedonist's paradise
Where you live like a hamster
Always climbing a flight of endless stairs
That goes round and round
Leading to nowhere.

Is it with pride that you share your latest bedmate?
"Fwends" as you call them
Or is it a way to assuage the guilt?

I try my best to see past your words
My eyes lead me to your wife and kids
Who spend Sundays on their knees
Lighting candles in an altar where God,
probably is too busy to hear their pleas.

I scream in silent horror
As your picture perfect image
Shatters right before my eyes.

In Transit . . . . Stuck in an Airport

2007-01-26T16:38:00.000-08:00

In Transit (The Poster)

The Ticket for our play - $5 each

A candid shot of me when I was delivering my piece. "Why Am I in Saipan." This picture was published in Maharlika. A magazine about Pinoys in the Marianas.

I want to share with you the first few paragraphs of my monologue.

Imagine this, it's 2 a.m. I've woken up again in the middle of the night. It's raining outside and the endless patter provides a melancholic music to my sadness.

I reach out for the other side of my bed like an instinct, hoping to find a loved-one beside me. But my arms land not on a warm body. It lands on a soft and cold pillow.

I stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes. Wishing for sleep to come. Wishing for dreams to bring me back to my bed in Manila. Nothing happens. I open my eyes. Stare at the ceiling once again until I get bored. I lose the staring match.

I reach for my phone and start to send text messages to my best friend in Manila. But, it's probably midnight there and another text message in the middle of the night would be answered back tomorrow at 10 when she wakes up. My loneliness cannot wait that long.

So, I try to connect with another lonely soul. My fellow contract worker who's been a constant lunch date for months. But, he's probably out there in some bar meeting other people and maybe he has found a temporary shelter in the arms of yet, another stranger. Still, I text him. He replies. He replies in gibberish. I realize the futility of my effort and chose to just go back to sleep.

But like Lady Macbeth, sleep escapes me. My mind is in overdrive thinking of that decision that brought me here in Saipan. Alone and lonely at 2am, on a rainy Saturday, I start blaming the weather for this crippling melancholy.

etc. etc...........

It all started in September of 2006 when I read about the Marianas Monologues in the newspaper. A group of writers wanted articles about other people's experiences of their life in Saipan.

I've been writing essays all my life, so I submitted one essay I wrote in August. It was about being homesick and alone in Saipan. My struggles as I try to adjust to the rhythm of life in the island. My experiences with fellow Filipinos and the failures and triumphs of my first 6 months in Saipan.

I wrote a 3-page essay in which I described my musings and random thoughts at 2 a.m. on that rainy Saturday in August. After a few revisions here and there, my essay turned into a monologue and made it to the final selection of the monologues to be included in the theater play called, "In Transit.....Stuck in an Airport."

Meetings, Readings, Rehearsals followed. I was happy to be part of the group composed mostly of Americans, Chinese and Chamorros. It was a multi-cultural group bound together by the same passion for the arts. Although I was the only Pinoy in the group, I felt at home right away because these people have the same interest as I do. Writing, Theater, Literature. Finally, I met people who speaks the language of my heart.

(In my apartment, I have to warn my landlady that when she hears me talking to myself, she doesn't have to worry. No, I am not going crazy. It's just me, memorizing my lines. )

Our first playdate was January 20, 2007. The theater was full. The show was by invitation only because we didn't have tickets on that date. The audience loved our show and they started to tell their friends about it.

Main show was held on January 26 and January 27, 2007.

It was an SRO crowd on the 26th and 27th! 95% of the audience were Caucasians. A handful of Asians and very few Pinoys. Now I know what theater actors feel before the show. The anxiety and the battle with stage fright. And the joy after the show, specifically during curtain calls when the audience gives you a standing ovation!

The play dealt on many issues about life in this island. How a vegetarian copes up with the choice of vegetables in Saipan. The experiences of a Chinese teacher who is torn whether to stay in Saipan or to go back to China. My experiences as a Filipino contract worker. A local guy's view about his "bitter times". A gay guy's experience growing up in this culture where there are only 2 roles - that of a male and that of a female. A woman's experience in panic attack. Another woman shared her experience of Saipan as an island where you are forced to look deep inside yourself. Cultural differences, struggles about life, about relationships. Indeed, everyone has baggage.

We blazed a trail for original theater in Saipan. The island is ready for it and although I am leaving soon, my heart will always be with my "In Transit" friends and acquaintances. In such a short time, we have become good friends and members of the mutual admiration society. I wish all my co-members in Voices of the Marianas, "Break a leg!"

My Theater Experience

2007-01-26T16:17:00.000-08:00

During our Dress Rehearsals

At the Cast Party in Susan's House

Different on the outside but the same on the inside. Our common love for theater binds us.

We opened to an SRO crowd last night. The ticket manager has to turn away some people and told them to just come back tomorrow night because the theater was full. They have to add some seats just to accomodate the crowd.

Last Saturday's preview did work. The audience loved the show and started to tell their friends about it. We were in the papers for 3 days in a row. It was my first time to see my picture in the papers. (This would definitely be in the pages of my scrapbook)

It was my first time to "act" in front of the crowd. I wrote my own piece so I am pretty confident on what to say, but still, there is that feeling of fear and anxiety. "What if I forgot my lines? What if I trip? What if....What if....." My hands were shaking and my lips were dry. It's a good thing that the spotlight was blinding me, so I just concentrated on my piece and delivered my lines.

As I spoke, I felt the nervousness disappear. I was telling my story to all the people in the audience. Hey, this is my experience. I woke up at 2am. I was lonely and alone. I can't sleep and I am terribly homesick. The audience listened. And they listened well.

Our director said that at least of couple of people approached her after the show and said that my piece made them cry.

Last night, a Chinese lady came to me and said that she related so much with my piece and that she misses her country too.

I felt good hearing those feedbacks. It makes me realize that the voice I have within me, is the same voice that could reach out to other people regardless of race and color. The feeling of homesickness is a universal feeling.

My professor in Creative Non-Fiction class was right. It takes a lot of honesty and courage to go deep inside yourself and tell the world your story. We may be different on the outside but definitely the same on the inside. (It's just so disappointing that the person whose journey was closest to mine, chose not to watch the show. But, it was his loss not mine.)

I love theater! On to the next show!

Cash Cathedrals

2007-01-26T16:05:00.000-08:00

"OFW Remittances hit all-time high of $14B" (Phil. Daily Inquirer - 1/27/07)

"BPI sees peso reaching 46:$1, 91-day T-bill rate 3%" (Phil. Daily Inquirer - 1/25/07)

Dollar Daze
"Catch Bus#22 along Clark Avenue in Chicago even in the bleakest of winter days and you're bound to meet a shivering, dollar-bearing yet still grinning kababayan on the way to cash cathedral - the PNB remittance center. Even as parting with our hard-earned cash makes our parkas feel a teeny bit thinner, somehow the thought of having met our obligation is comforting. " -Letter from Chicago - Armand Frasco (Phil. Daily Inquirer - 12/14/06)

Cash cathedrals. That is what writer Armand Frasco calls the remittance companies. Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) usually hang out in Catholic churches and of course in the other "church," the other cathedral which is the remittance center.

Here in Saipan, there are a lot of remittance centers and agents that cater mostly to Pinoy OFWs. PNB (one of the biggest banks in the Philippines) has 2 branches here. BPI (my former bank) has 2 agents here in the island. LBC, Rustans, APEX and many others service the remittance needs of the living heroes of the Philippines.

Remittance companies usually charge $5 per transaction. Banks usually charge higher fees for wire transfers and telegraphic transfers so an ordinary OFW would of course transact with a remittance center with a lower fee scale for a faster and safer method of transmitting the funds.

Most of the remittance centers are online. All it takes is a few seconds for the funds to be available to the beneficiaries in any part of the Philippines. One of the many advantages of the advances in technology.

I remember reading stories (when I was younger) from the first batch of Pinoy contract workers - the construction workers in the Middle East. They used to send cash thru mails (which gets stolen sometimes) or when someone goes home for a vacation in the Philippines, that person would act as the courier. Of course, a lot of risk is involved in this. The courier is held-up, or he runs away with the money, or he is conned. But that was ages ago. OFWs are lot smarter now and with the technological advances available to them, sending money back home is easier, safer and faster.

And by remitting money home, the economy of our poor country is kept afloat. According to the Philippine Daily Inquirer (1/27/07), "At $14B, the amount would be about 60% of the foreign exchange reserves of the Central Bank of the Philippines, which surged to an all time high of $23B at end of 2006."

Mabuhay ang mga buhay na bayani ng Pilipinas!

Here are some of the pictures I took. The Cash Cathedrals of Saipan!

Chamorro 101

2007-01-25T18:39:00.000-08:00

The Pinay Expat Wearing the Traditional Islander Costume.

Saipan. My home for 1 year. I've learned so much from my stay here. Sana lahat ng natutunan ko ay magamit ko sa aking mga susunod na adventures. Heto ang ilan sa mga salitang Chamorro na itinuro sa akin ng aking officemate na si Martin.

Hafa Adai - Mabuhay!

Hafa? - What's up?

Adios - Goodbye

Hazi Naanmu? - What is your name?

Inannu si Pam - My name is Pam

Inanmu si Bert - His name is Bert

Namoli ki dia - Have a good day

Benlana Hao - the "F----word"

Kaduko - Crazy guy

Kaduka - Crazy lady

Za hu y cafe - I like the coffee

Za hu y kareta - I like the car

Adios, esta gupa - Goodbye see you tomorrow

Esta birada - See you later

Guay za hao Mae - I love Mae

Ti guay za hao Pres. Bush - I don't love Pres. Bush

Plumeria - Calachuci

Tangan-tangan - ipil-ipil tree

Palpalatong - Kalokohan, Bola

Mallik - Good

Unggan - Yes

Pronunciation:

When I was in Singapore 2 years ago, I noticed that Singaporeans accentuate their English with "Lah" So they say, "OK lah." "No, lah!" Chamorros accentuate English with "Ne." So here, in Saipan, it's "OK Ne." "No, ne"

"Check fan the files, ne." - Can you check the files please.

"Nut....ting" - Nothing

Words ending in 'L' are pronounced in 'short L' and with a heavy turn about kind of accent at the end of the word." Example: Mel (M^el), bottle - (ba te^L)

American Dream

2007-01-24T00:18:00.000-08:00

Issues confronting the islands these days.

There are 2 issues that pervade the island these days. Minimum wage hike and federalization.

When I inform my acquaintances that I am no longer renewing my contract, their reaction would be that of shock. And then, they would ask me, "Why?"

I would just shrug my shoulders and say, "Because....."

They can't understand why in the world would I leave Saipan? I have a good job and my employment condition is "rare" compared to the mainstream employment conditions of contract workers here. Some would even try to change my mind and encourage me to stay. "Naku, malapit ng maging federal ang Saipan. Magtiis ka na lang."

Again, I would just shrug my shoulders and smile.

Recently, the US congress has passed the bill raising the minimum wage to $7.25 per hour. Here in Saipan, the minimum wage is $3.05 per hour. A lot of buzz has been going around. The concern whether businessmen would be able to pay the raise. With the economic slump on the island, where are a lot of businesses are closing shop, I wonder how would a slow business condition afford such wage hike.

A lot of contract workers are worried whether their company would still be open tomorrow. Non-renewal notices are being sent out and advance notices from employers are circulating. Employees are being adviced to seek a job in another company because the business is winding down. Reduced work hours have been implemented in various private and even public companies.

Since Saipan has no agriculture, no high-skilled local workforce and with such a small land area, basic economic principles would see the island as doomed.

Saipan economy used to depend on tourism and garment export. With just a handful of tourists annually and with garment factories relocating to cheaper China, Saipan needs Uncle Sam to rescue its economy.

Another big issue is the immigration policies. Contract workers have easier time to enter Saipan (a US territory) because Saipan immigration laws are unique and distinct from US immigration policies. A contract worker gets an entry permit (equivalent to working visa) which would only be valid in the 3-major islands of the CNMI. (Saipan, Tinian and Rota)

A contract worker cannot go to Guam (requires a US visa) or to the US mainland. Contract workers could stay here for 10 to 20 years or even longer, yet, they would not be granted residency (unlike in the US mainland, where you can have greencard or residence status).

Recently, a rally was held to propose that immigration laws be reviewed and that long time contract workers be granted residency or green card. (Children born in the CNMI are automatically granted US citizenship, thus, Pinoy contract workers call their kids, "Agila." The term is from the eagle printed on the US passport.)

Many Pinoy contract workers are patiently waiting for the "green card." Some even say that maybe the US would grant automatic greencard or even citizenship to all people in the CNMI. "Ganyan ang ginawa sa Guam dati. Organic. Pati yung mga nasa eroplano, automatic na US citizen na."

As I hear these issues, I can't help but wonder, "What will happen to Saipan?"

Would the US government rescue it? Would its economy recover? Would the "American Dreams" of fellow Pinoy contract workers be fulfilled? What would happen to the locals? Would the local government officials allow the changes?

I am leaving soon, so I could only watch from a distance as the events unfold.

New Year sa Saipan

2006-12-30T22:56:00.001-08:00

First and Last New Year ko dito sa Saipan. Nakaraos naman ng maluwalhati.

Naimbitahan kami ng mommy ni April to welcome the New Year at their house. So, Alex, April and I stayed there. Kainan. Kantahan (kaya umulan ng malakas). Kulitan. Nood ng DVD. Laro ng cards at billiards. And of course, I learned how to play Tekken. April's little brother taught me how. He got a PSP last Christmas. Nakaka-addict pala maglaro ng Tekken. (hmmm, para tuloy gusto kong bumili ng PSP).

After that, attend naman kami ng company party nina April. The New Year's party is part of their company's tradition, where (almost) all the employees are invited to the bosses' house. Of course, food and drinks were overflowing (typical Chamorro party), music is provided by a local band (cha-cha siyempre ang tugtog). I saw some acquaintances and exchanged new year greetings. There was a "talent" show by employees and children of employees.

The raffle draw is the highlight of the party. Prizes at stake were refrigerators, TVs, dining set, sofa, bed, and other consolation prizes. April won a phone.

There was also a fireworks display. We went home at around 10pm, tired and exhausted.

Hay, one month na lang ako dito sa Saipan. I am quietly saying goodbye to all these.

Here are some photos I took during the party.

Talent Show. Employees dancing "Boom Tarat"

Take your pick. Coke. Sprite. Oolong Tea. Iced-tea.

Ice box for alcoholics. Bud light. Miller. Corona.

At the Buffet Table. Java Rice. Meat. Meat. Meat. Meat.

Fish with Veggies and Pepper. Hot!hot!hot!

Consolation Prizes for the Raffle.

Lois with the major prizes.

Salad.

Employees at the party. 98% of them, Pinoys!

Employees enjoying their dinner.

Alex and April. Beautiful couple.

Haven for the Dehydrated! Ice-box for water.

Giant Pumpkin on Display at one of the supermarkets here in Saipan. (Taken during the Halloween.)

Mother of all kalabasas!

525,600 minutes

2006-12-30T22:48:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in front of my computer trying to evaluate the year that was. The year 2006. I have made major changes in my life. I've switched jobs, left home and worked abroad (isa na akong buhay na bayani), experienced new things, learned how to navigate in a new jungle, learned how to drive, owned a car, fell in and out of love, gained new friends and met acquaintances.

One year is equivalent to 525,600 minutes. What have I done to those minutes?

I would like to measure the year 2006 in love! Being away from home made me realize how lucky am I to have my family who loves me. How lucky I am to have Tes, Dina, Elay, Arlene, Pops, Jeff, Margaret, Mariz, Marivic, Jocon, Lilibeth, CA, Mel, CY, Rosel, Lorna, Raffy, Lorie (i hope i didn't miss anyone. he!he!) who have been my friends for years. Lynvi, Beng, Josette, Mona, Jojo, Joyce. I could go on and on. I have a lot of loyal and trusted friends. How lucky I was to have worked in BPI. A really world class bank, where professionalism and integrity mark every transaction.

But I was lucky too, to have come to Saipan. It made me compare what I had before and what I have now. The experiences (both good and bad) I had here would surely enrich me as a person.

I am posting my favorite song from the musical Rent. How do we really measure a year?

Let's measure it in LOVE!

Seasons of Love

525,600 minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes
how do you measure
measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets,
In midnights, in cups of coffee.

In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife

In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?

How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love.

Seasons of love.

525,600 minutes
525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minustes - how can you measure the life of a woman or man?

In truths that she learned
or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned or
the way that she died?

It's time now to sing out, though the story never ends
Let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.

Remember the love! Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love.

Seasons of love!
Seasons of love.

Of Poker Houses and Pawnshops

2006-12-27T22:55:00.000-08:00

A Typical Poker House

One of the Pawnshops along the Beach Road

Dito sa Saipan, madaming "Pokeran" at Pawnshops.

Ang "Pokeran" ay ang mga Poker Houses. Kung sa Pilipinas, bawat kanto may sari-sari store, sa Saipan, Poker House naman ang makikita mo bawat kanto.

24 hours, 7-days a week ang operations ng Poker House. Minsan may guard na nagbabantay, minsan wala.

Nakapasok na ako sa loob ng Poker House. Ang dati kong landlady ay naglalaro ng Poker, at minsan hinanap ko siya para manghiram ng susi. Aba, nasa loob sya ng Poker House!

Madilim ang loob ng Poker House. Malakas ang aircon kaya malamig. Sa loob ng Poker House ay may mga Poker machines at duon naglalaro ang mga Poker addicts.

Para kang maglalaro ng slot machine. Maghuhulog ka ng pera, tapos pipindutin mo ang buton. Kapag nanalo ka, lalabas sa machine ang perang mapapanalunan mo. Sa machine ay nakalagay ang mga choices. 2 of a kind. Full HOuse. Flush. Royal Flush. Ewan. Hindi ko maintindihan kasi hindi naman ako madunong maglaro ng poker.

Sa Poker House na napasukan ko, may limang poker machines. Ang landlady ko ay naglalaro sa isang dulo. Samantalang may isang mama na naglalaro sa kabilang dulo. May dala-dala siyang pagkain. Mcdonald's burger at isang large coke. Sa palagay, matagal na siyang naglalaro. Addict siguro.

Sabi ng mga nakakausap ko, karaniwang walang tao sa Poker House kapag umaga. Sa madaling araw daw napupuno ang Poker Houses.

"Bakit?"

"Kasi nagtatago sa mga kamag-anak ang mga naglalaro ng Poker. Kaya sa madaling araw sila nagpupunta."

"Mga addict nga."

Maraming kwento din akong narinig na maraming mga kapwa OFW ang nalulong sa Poker. Kumakain na lang ng "soba" (instant noodles) para makapaglaro lang ng poker. Naisip ko, na kung ang isang construction worker na sumasahod ng minimum wage ($3.05/hour), tapos puro soba lang ang kinakain dahil lulong na sa Poker, aba, hind malayong mangyari na magkasakit at mapauwi sa Pilipinas ang taong iyon.

Katabi halos ng mga Poker Houses ay mga Pawnshop naman. Dito sa Saipan, lahat pwede mong isanla. Bukod sa alahas pwede kang magsanla ng aircon, gitara, microwave at Wow! Magic Sing. (Minsan naimbitahan kami sa opening ng isang pawnshop. Aba, ang daming magic sing na nakasanla! Lahat ng models meron. Mula sa pinakaluma hanggang sa pinakabagong modelo.)

It makes perfect sense hindi ba? Maglaro ka ng Poker, tapos kapag natatalo ka na at nauubusan na ng pera, pumunta ka sa pawnshop para magsanla. Dagdag pondo para sa poker game. Tuloy ang ligaya. Panandaliang aliw para kahit sa ilang mga sandali makalimutan ang lungkot. Makalimutan ang problema. Makalimutan ang dahilan kung bakit nangibang-bansa.

Images

2006-12-25T23:20:00.000-08:00

Pictures ng mga "celebrities" at ordinaryong tao dito sa Saipan.

Mga lola at lolo. Tito at Tita. Mga manang sa simbahan.

The Bishop and the Troops.

The Governor

The Telephone Directory

The Korean Newspaper

The Procession

The Newspapers in Saipan. Marianas Variety and The Tribune

The Beauty Queens of Saipan

The Senators

The Contestants of Ms. Gay Pacific

Talent Portion

Ang Diyosa ng mga Gays in the Pacific. Si Venus! (kasama ako syempre.)

Ang mga talented na Ms. Gay Contestants. Pinoy lahat yan!

Kuru-Kuro Ulit

2006-12-19T16:03:00.000-08:00

Madalas sumasagi sa isip ko ang mga tanong na ito:

1. Kung nanatili kaya tayo sa ilalim ng gobyerno ng Amerika nung panahon ng Commonwealth, magiging katulad din kaya ng mga Chamorro ang lifestyle nating mga Pinoy?

2. Magiging payak din kaya tayong mag-isip?

3. Sa trabaho, magiging tamad din kaya tayo? Tamad magsumikap at tamad matuto ng higit pa sa simpleng kaalaman?

4. Magiging masidhi pa rin ba ang pangarap nating makarating sa Amerika?

5. Marami pa rin kaya ang corrupt na pulitiko sa atin?

6. Maniniwala pa rin kaya ang karamihan sa atin sa sinabi ni Pres. Quezon na, "I prefer a government run like hell by Filipinos than a government run like heaven by the Americans?"

Kung nasa ilalim tayo ng gobyerno ng Amerika at kabilang sa Commonwealth government, siguro tulad din tayo ng mga Chamorro. Magiging madali sa atin ang mga bagay na katulad ng mga ito.

1. Madali bumili ng sasakyan, bahay at pagkain dahil mataas ang sweldo at kakayanin ng isang simpleng manggagawa ang magpundar ng mga ito.

2. Ang pulis at mga teachers ay matataas ang sweldo kasi Federal funds ang magbabayad ng sahod nila. Ang police car natin magiging Ford Expedition at hindi Tamaraw FX o Toyota Corolla o stainless jeep. Ang school bus yung kulay yellow-gold na kadalasan nakikita sa mga Hollywood movies.

3. Ang mga pagkain natin, pagkain ng Kano. Steak, burger, cake, ice-cream, salad etc. Malalaki ang servings. Siguro, mapagwaldas din tayo sa pagkain. Bibili ng madami tapos itatapon ang sobra. Takaw-mata sabi nga ng nanay ko.

4. Mas dadami pa ang tamad sa atin kasi kapag walang trabaho may government aid naman. May food stamps kaya hindi ka mamamatay sa gutom.

5. Libre ang pag-aaral simula elementarya hanggang high-school. Maganda ang facilities at up to date sa technology.

6. Siguro, lahat ng Pinoy may katulong na Chinese o di kaya Bangladeshi. Mga OCW mula sa mahihirap na bansa. Pagmamalupitan din kaya natin sila tulad ng mga pagmamalupit na nararanasan ng mga DH natin sa iba't-ibang bansa?

7. Konti lang siguro ang mangangarap na mangibang-bansa. Siguro ang mga pangarap ng ordinaryong Pinoy, makapunta ng Amerika para mamasyal lang sa Disneyland o di kaya sa Universal Studios. Hindi na tayo mangangarap tumira doon kasi mga American citizens na tayo. May tatak agila ang passport natin at hindi na kailangan ng visa sa halos lahat ng bansa sa mapa. Mga Kano tayo na nakatira sa Pilipinas. Kapag gusto nating makakita ng snow, pupunta tayo sa New York or sa Chicago para makapaglaro sa snow. Magiging madali lang sa atin ang magbiyahe.

Pero naiisip ko rin na kahit kelan hindi tayo magiging katulad ng mga Chamorro kahit na nasa Commonwealth government tayo.

Sa tingin ko nga eh, siguro tatalunin natin ang mga Kano sa Amerika. Dahil sa likas na talento at talino ng Pinoy, siguro puro Pinoy ang mangunguna sa larangan ng negosyo, siyensya, relihiyon at maging sa sining.

Hmmmm.....kaya siguro pumayag ang mga Kano nung ipaglaban ng mga ninuno natin na tumiwalag tayo sa Commonwealth.

Natakot si Uncle Sam! he!he!he!

Kuru-kuro ng isang OCW sa Saipan

2006-12-14T23:45:00.000-08:00

Poster at the OWWA Transit Lounge at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport in Manila showing President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo wishing contract workers a safe trip.

I've been an Overseas Contract Worker for almost a year. I got a job as an auditor in one of the companies here in Saipan.

Saipan is an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. A US territory, it is the largest of the 3 major islands that comprise the Commonwealth of the Northern Marianas Islands (CNMI).

I arrived in Saipan in February of 2006. The island is no different from a Class C province in the Philippines. The weather is tropical and except for the currency which was in US Dollars, it was being like home, or so I thought.

As I continued my stay and met fellow OFWs, I became aware of the peculiarity of this island specifically about relationships most OFWs here have.

Most OFWs here have families in the Philippines, but they also have another family here in Saipan. I've met them. I've known them. I've seen their faces. They've told me their stories.

"Wife" "Girlfriend" "Husband" "Boyfriend" "Fwend" are the terms used to introduce one another. It's easy to involve oneself in these kinds of relationships. The locals - Chamorros they are called - most often than not have multiple partners. With a population of just 70,000, exchanging partners is not uncommon. Most locals have 2 or 3 partners because divorce is allowed here. A husband is different from a boyfriend and a boyfriend is different from a lover. Having an affair is no big deal. It's pretty much the norm.

Having been raised in a conservative family and having been surrounded by friends who held on to their marriage vows in sacred reverence, I was shocked to come face to face with this sad fact.

Saipan is one lonely island for an OFW. The place is so tiny that you can go from end to end in just 3 hours. There are no shopping malls here and everybody knows each other. The place is ideal for romantic tryst. White sand beaches and clear blue waters by day and balmy, warm sea breeze with starlit sky at night.

Married people are more vulnerable to the deep loneliness of Saipan. I guess it's because married people are used to having someone around. Someone to do things with, someone to go to bed with or just someone to talk to. Being single and used to being alone and independent in Manila, I felt pressured in Saipan. I had a lot of time in my hands. I had nothing to do and I was lonely. Battling homesickness which really peaked on my 6th month here, I became scared of the possibility and the choices that laid before me. I had my own share of men who made a pass at me but I was lucky. I had badminton and writing to help me keep my focus.

I think of the others who failed to keep theirs. I knew them. They had faces. They were not just one-dimensional characters in gossip columns or films. They were ordinary people like me.

Having gone through the experience of deep loneliness and homesickness, I understand the "Le Affairs" of Saipan. The need to have a special someone regardless of whether one is married or not is a basic human need. Don't get me wrong, I am not justifying the affairs but I guess these are all part of the human struggle. The human condition. In fact one of the running jokes here in Saipan is, "Don't drink the rainwater of Saipan because if you do, you'll forget your family back home."

If Saipan OFWs are a microcosm of the OFW phenomenon, I am sure that these "Le Affairs" also happen in Singapore, in Hongkong, in Milan, in Barcelona, in Dubai and in all other places where there are OFWs. Different circumstances but the same stories. Different places but the same brown faces. Same loneliness. Same solution.

The Peso continues to appreciate due to the remittances of OFWs. In fact, the Peso is now pegged at P49.30 to a Dollar. Last year, it was more than P50 to a dollar. As of August 2006, total OFW remittances was $5B. We are the heroes of our economy. The price - emotional struggle. We endure loneliness. We silently cry ourselves to sleep. We drown ourselves in alcohol. We live in the fleeting happiness of affairs. We seek shelter in our psychotic belief of religion. We scrub our bathroom floors till our hands are raw. We stay until midnight in the office.

Movies are now being made to show our plight. Various NGOs have dedicated themselves to protect our interests. Various government agencies have been set-up to help (?) us in times of need. Certain products are marketed to us and even certain advertisements have defined us as target markets. We have become a force.

While on vacation in the Philippines last month, I was at the parlor to have my hair done. The hairdresser's (he was a guy and he said he was not gay) phone rang. He took the call and then told me, "Mama ko yun."

The way he said it, the mama didn't sound like he was talking about his mother. He continued his story by telling me that the "mama" is a married woman whose husband is an engineer in Malaysia.

Another fascinating story I heard was a comment of the wife who was in the Philippines. When she heard that her OFW husband was having an affair in Dubai, "OK lang iyon. At least may nag-aalaga sa kanya dun."

Is this the price the Philippines has to pay for the strength of the Peso?

Pagbabalik Bayan

2006-12-14T00:47:00.000-08:00

When the captain announced that the plane is about to touch down, my excitement reached its peak.

Finally, after 10 months in the lonely island of Saipan, I am going back home!

As the plane was on its last approach for landing, I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, "Civilization! Bumalik ako sa sibilisasyon!"

When I saw the lights of Manila, I was grinning from ear to ear.

I waited for my baggage for what seemed like an eternity, I was a bit dizzy and hungry but I was so happy to be affected.

I was chatting with Ruby who sat beside me on the plane. She is to go home in Pangasinan right after.

I was just so glad to be back home. I was happy to be in the middle of the noise and confusion of my beloved city. I was looking at Manila in a new light.

The hotel taxi fetched me at the airport. I was back in EDSA. The drivers were driving the usual Manila style, unmindful of lanes and signals. Tricycles and pedicabs were on the main road in Pasay. The chaos was mine. This is my city. I was just ecstatic to be back in the chaotic confusion of my Manila.

Makati is now decked with Christmas lights. My eyes opened wide with awe as we passed by Rustan's, Glorietta and SM. "The malls! The malls!"

The malls which I missed so much. The fashion. The pop culture. The old life I had.

My company has arranged for my accomodation at the Hotel Nikko for 2 days. One of the perks of the job so to speak. It felt strange being the middle of expats. I am now one of them. Experiencing the life of the rich because my company can afford to send me to these places. I was treated well and it felt different. I remember when I was still working in my previous company, where I have to haggle for discounts during our out of town assignments because our hotel allowance could only afford a cheap room. (The junior executive suite at the Nikko where I was billeted was a disappointment but that is another story.)

I kept asking myself, "Is this how it feels to be able to afford the finer things of life?"

The following day, while my family and I went shopping, I looked around for the new trends in fashion. What the rich and sheltered people of Makati were wearing. The mall rats of Glorietta and SM were sporting boleros. Mini skirts with leggings. Layering is in. The usual jeans and shirts are now adorned with big belts. Longer shirts with garters at the hips. The metallic and shiny shoes. The latest gadgets were on display. The latest cellphone models. I felt odd with my Nokia 3310. And of course, it felt great to watch all the slim, fair and cono crowd I don't usually see in Saipan. Manila people are really far more sophisticated, fashionable and beautiful than the whole population of the jologs island. The only difference is, the people of jologs island are dollar earners and are American citizens. A cosmic joke with a political twist perhaps.

After 10 months of being away from Manila, everything seemed so new. Cubao with its million Christmas lights was more beautiful and could compete with Makati. My old apartment felt comfortable. I felt peaceful. I slept soundly although I didn't have airconditioners. My family was there beside me.

Malling was easier this time. I could afford things I couldn't before. It was easier to buy things now. Things seem cheaper and more reasonably priced. I was in the middle of the shoe section in SM Makati and I was amazed at the endless styles and unlimited choices. In Saipan, shoe stores carry limited styles and choices and are generally more expensive. I wanted to do an Imelda and shop till I drop but the practical side of me prevailed. Of course, I still bought 3 pairs which my sisters critized. They think the shoes were unfashionable. Have I imbibed the Saipan fashion sense? Arrgghh!!! Oh no!

My vacation was not solely spent in shopping of course. I met friends. I went back to my old bank to say hello to my officemates and my former bosses. It felt great to be back. Riding the elevator to the 12th floor again. Greeting Mang Loloy our guard. Drinking the P10 (2 dimes) coffee from the vending machine again. Endless stories and updates. The changes I've noticed from my bosses (the thinning hair). The level of comfort while talking to my old and trusted friends was more heartfelt. I was braver to show my affection. I kept hugging them. I wanted to hoard all the memories so that when I go back to the jologs island, I could endure homesickness better. I am comforted by the fact that I only have a few months left in my contract and I am going home again.

It really is true. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Silence

2006-12-11T23:56:00.000-08:00

I lived alone in my tiny apartment in Garapan area for 8 months. Being alone for such a long time have made me look deep inside myself. The long periods of silence was just like a retreat from the noisy confusion of the world. I learned to live with my silence. I sometimes hated it but most often than not, I was happy to soak in it. I came across this essay from the travel writer - Pico Iyer - who eloquently decribed the mystery of silence. I am sharing it to you.

Silence

Every one of us knows the sensation of going up, on retreat, to a high place, and feeling ourselves so lifted up that we can hardly imagine the circumstances of our usual lives, or all the things that make us fret. In such a place, in such a state, we start to recite the standard litany: that silence is sunshine, where company is clouds; that silence is rapture, where company is doubt; that silence is golden, where company is brass.

But silence is not so easily won. And before we race off to go prospecting in those hills, we might usefully recall that fool's gold is much more common, and that gold has to be panned for, dug out from other substances. "All profound things and emotions of things are preceded and attended by Silence," wrote Herman Merville, one of the loftiest and most eloquent of souls. Working himself up to an ever more thunderous cry of affirmation, he went on: "Silence is the general consecration of the universe. Silence is the invisible laying on of the Divine Pontiff's hands upon the world. Silence is the only Voice of our God." For Melville, though, silence finally meant darkness and hopelessness and self-annihilation. Devastated by the silence that greeted his heartfelt novels, he retired into public silence from which he did not emerge for more than thirty years. Then, just before his death, he came forth with his final utterance - the luminous tale of Billy Budd - and showed that silence is only as worthy as what we can bring back from it.

We have to earn silence, then, to work for it: to make it not an absence but a presence; not emptiness but repletion. Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands. In silence, we often say, we can hear ourselves think; but what is truer to say is that in silence we can hear ourselves not think, and so sink below our selves into a place far deeper than mere thought allows. In silence, we might better say, we can hear someone else think.

Or simply breathe. For silence is responsiveness, and in silence we can listen to something behind the clamor of the world. "As soon as you are alone, you are with God," wrote Thomas Merton, who was, as a Trappist, a connoisseur, a caretaker of silences. It is no coincidence that places of worship are places of silence: if idleness is the devil's playground, silence may be the angels'. It is no surprise that "silence" is an anagram of "license." And it is only right that Quakers all but worship silence, for it is the place where everyone finds his God, however, he may express it. Silence is an ecumenical state, beyond the doctrines and divisions created by the mind. If everyone has a spiritual story to tell of his life, everyone has a spiritual silence to preserve.

So it is that we might almost say that silence is the tribute that we pay to holiness; we slip off words when we enter a sacred space, just as we slip off shoes. A "moment of silence" is the highest honor we can pay someone; it is the point at which the mind stops, and something else takes over (words run out when feelings rush in). A "vow of silence" is for holy men the highest devotional act. We hold our breath, we hold our words; we suspend our chatterings selves and let ourselves "fall silent" and fall into the highest place of all.

It often seems that the world is getting noisier these days: in Japan, which may be a model of our future, cars and buses have voices, doors and elevators speak. The answering machine talks to us, and for us, somewhere above the din of the TV; the Walkman preserves a public silence but ensures that we need never - in the bathtub, on a mountaintop, even at our desks- be without the clangor of the world. White noise becomes that aural equivalent of the clash of images, the nonstop blast of fragments that increasingly agitates our minds. As Ben Okri, the young Nigerian novelist puts it, "Where chaos is the god of an era, clamorous music is the deity's chief instrument."

There is - of course - a place of noise, as there is for daily lives. There is a place for roaring, for the shouting exultation of a baseball game, for hymns and cries of pleasure. The great charm of noise, however, is when it ceases. In silence, suddenly, it seems as if all the windows of the world are thrown open, and everything is as clear as on a morning after rain. Silence, ideally, hums. It charges the air. In Tibet, where the silence has a tragic cause, it is still quickened by the fluttering of prayer flags, the tolling of temple bells, the roar of wind across the plains, the memory of chant.

Silence, then, could be said to be the ultimate province of trust: it is the place where we trust ourselves to be alone; where we trust others to understand the things we do not say; where we trust a higher harmony to assert itself. We all know how treacherous are words, and how often we use them to paper over embarrassment, or emptiness, or fear of the larger spaces that silence brings. "Words, words, words" commit us to positions we do not really hold, the imperatives of chatter; words are what we use for lies, false promises, and gossip. We babble with strangers; with intimates we can be silent. We "make conversation" when we are at a loss; we unmake it when we are alone, or with those so close to us that we can afford to be alone with them.

In love, we are speechless; in awe, we say, words fail us.

Tsunami Experience

2006-11-19T18:12:00.000-08:00

November 16, 2006
Thursday, alas 2:30 ng madaling araw

Sa Saipan na ba ako mamamatay?

Ayaw ko nga!

Sa pakiramdam ko, nananaginip lang ako. Ngunit ng marinig kong may kumakatok sa pintuan ng aking kuwarto, naalimpungatan ako.

Si April ang kumakatok. Naka-jacket na sya at sa mukha niya ay nakita ko ang pag-aalala.

"Ate, gising. May tsunami alert. 1:30 am daw."

"Ha?"

"Mag-e-evacuate tayo."

"Totoo ba ito?"

Binuksan namin ang pintuan ng apartment at dumungaw sa labas. Maraming sasakyan sa daan at may patrol car na dumaan. Ang aming mga kapitbahay ay naghahanda na ring lumikas.

"Totoo nga!"

"April, dalhin nyo ang mga papers ninyo. Yung mga damit, dito na lang sa maleta ko. Mas malaki ito at marami pang space."

Habang ihinahanda ko ang aking mga gamit, naalala ko ang aking kapwa OFW. Tinawagan ko siya at sinabihan na lumikas din.

"Hey, may tsunami alert daw. Mag-e-evacuate kami."

Sa tono ng boses nya, mukhang lasing na naman sya. "Eh, nandito ako sa labas, wala namang nangyayari."

"Basta. Start packing and start moving."

Binalak naming pumunta sa Mt. Tapuchao. Ang pinakamataas na lugar dito sa Saipan. Nagmamadali kaming bumaba sa parking, dala-dala ang maleta at pagkain (tinapay at peanut butter)

"Naku, bili tayo ng tubig. Wala tayong dalang tubig."

Ang sagot ni Alex, "Dun sa may San Jose, ate. 24 hours bukas iyon."

Habang nasa loob ng sasakyan, tumatawag si April sa mga kaibigan at kakilala. Ako naman, panay ang text sa mga malalapit na kaibigan.

"Baka naman prank lang ang lahat ng ito."

Binuksan namin ang radyo para malaman kung totoo nga na may tsunami alert. Halos lahat ng istasyon naka-automatic programming na. Dito sa Saipan, walang radyo na may 24-hours na naka duty na announcer. Puro FM stations kasi at walang AM stations na tulad sa atin.

Pagdating namin sa San Jose, sarado ang tindahan.

"Mukhang totoo nga."

Hindi ko alam kung saan na idinaan ni Alex ang sasakyan. Nahihilo pa ako sa antok. Ngunit hindi naman ako kinabahan. Pero naisip ko, ayaw kong mamatay dito sa jologs na isla ng Saipan.

Dumaan kami sa bahay ng mommy ni April para gisingin din sila at para humingi na rin ng tubig.

At habang naghihintay sa sasakyan, narinig namin ang announcement sa radyo.

"The tsunami alert for all the islands in the Pacific have been cancelled as of 1a.m. Repeat! The tsunami alert......"

Totoo nga na may tsunami warning! At hindi kalokohan ang lahat.

Pagbalik ni April sa sasakyan, dala-dala ang tubig na hiningi sa mommy nya.

"Cancelled na ang tsunami alert. Uwi na tayo."

Habang pabalik sa bahay, tinanong ko si April kung ilang beses na nya naranasan ang mga ganitong pangyayari. Dito na kasi sya halos lumaki at nagkaisip.

"Mga 5 times na siguro ate. Minsan yung iba, nakatulugan ko na nga lang eh."

Nang makarating kami sa bahay, hindi na ako makatulog. Binuksan ko ang TV at nanood ng CNN. Dun ko nalaman na may 8.1 earthquake sa Japan at may tsunami warning nga. May tsunami sa Hokkaido sa Japan pero maliliit lang.

Naisip ko na kung magkakaroon ng tsunami dito sa Saipan, eh baka mabura na sa mapa ang islang ito. Sa kaliitan ng isla ay baka lamunin na ng tubig ito. Dun ko napagtanto na ayaw kong magtagal sa islang ito.

Kinabukasan, pumasok ako sa opisina na inaantok at wala sa tamang wisyo.

Pagkatapos ng ilang minuto, nagtawagan ang mga kaibigan para ibahagi din ang kani-kanilang istorya tungkol sa experiences nila.

Hay...... buhay nga naman dito sa isla ng Saipan. Kakaiba!

The Naked Stallions

2006-11-19T15:14:00.000-08:00

The curious cat became a witness of the flesh trade again. This time the male version of it.

It was a Saturday night and with boredom creeping on our bones, my acquaintances and I decided to spend a couple of hours in Club V (that gimmick place in Saipan Grand Hotel where the new band - Resound - plays) The music was too loud and at around midnight, we decided to go to The Naked Stallion, a gay bar here in Saipan.

Another shocking experience I am sharing in this blog site.

The Naked Stallion is located in Middle Road. At around 12:30am, there was barely a handful of people inside - around 12 in all, including the dancers, the waiters and the manager.

We came in and maybe it was their lucky night. We were 15 in all and we became the crowd that filled up the club. We were greeted by the loud music blaring on the stereo. A gay man (he was pretty) dressed in black panties and bra was gyrating on stage.

Doll, (an acquaintance) who was a bit tipsy at that point, told me to bring out $1 bills. I gamely got 5 $1bills from my wallet and put the money on top of the table. A local girl who was in our group, saw a friend of hers and said, "Why are you here? Don't worry, I am not telling." And they laughed out loud enjoying the chance to be naughty that night.

The manager (who's name I later learned was Allan), with badly fitted wig and an Arnel Ignacio look-alike, got our orders. He was a bit disappointed because most of us ordered iced-tea, mango juice and coke. Our companions, the locals girls, who were more well-versed in alcoholic stuff, ordered their usual staple - Bud Light.

After a few minutes, a dancer came on stage. He was naked except for a sarong covering his private parts. His erection was obvious because the sarong was so manipis. He got off the stage, walked towards the table across us. He removed his sarong in front of the girl, and gyrated in the girls face. The crowd was screaming wildly. The dancer placed his sarong back and the girl inserted the $1 bill in his waist.

I was intently looking at the male dancer. He was so young! His body was alright. The right kind of combination of the muscular and the ordinary. I think he works out but not much. His skin was fair and was quite flawless. He could pass as a matinee idol. He was quite short though. About 5'4''.

The second dancer was more boyish looking. He danced to the tune of "Love begins with one hello. The hardest part is over, now it's easy letting go." (I actually don't know the title of the song). His sarong was black decorated with red flowers. He did a lap dance with Doll. We were screaming and covered our faces with our hands. Doll was game. She was tipsy already. She gave the dancer a dollar too.

The dancer then went to the local girls. Queena who was really wild that night, even touched the dancer's penis. The dancer did a lap dance in her face and she was touching the guy's back and butt. Of course, the more conservative members of the group did nothing but scream our lungs out. I was busy making a mental note of it all, careful not to forget details so I could write about it. I made messages on my phone and Vic (Cecil's friend) told me, "Ano ka ba? Kanina ka pa text ng text."

The third dancer came with green tapis. His tapis was longer. He was wearing briefs. The color? Camouflage. Just like an army uniform. He was the tallest among the 3 dancers but he was not as good looking as the first 2. He danced near Vic who was seated at the far edge of the sofa. He took out his penis, got Cecil's mango juice on top of the table and dipped his erect penis on the juice. (Yukky!) I was watching Vic's expressions and he looked really uncomfortable. The dancer sensed that Vic was not gay, so he went near Cecile (I was seated beside Cecile) and started to gyrate in front of our faces. We were screaming with our hands on our faces. I didn't dare look. The dancer was disappointed I think so he got on top of our table, danced a bit and then went to the other edge of the sofa where the local girls were seated. He removed his tapis, wrapped his penis on it and one local girl removed the tapis, threw it away leaving the dancer in his naked glory. He held his erect penis in his hands and went back on stage, did a few thrusting motions on the floor, (which really looked pathetic in my opinion) took a bow and left.

The crowd got a bit tame after that performance. After a few minutes, the tall dancer came out. He was already dressed (tatterred maong pants and t-shirt). He went to the table behind us, and entertained the group. I took a closer look at him and noticed that he was wearing foundation and eye liner. Maybe it was to conceal his acne scars.

It was 2 in the morning and they were about to close. Allan the manager, gave us the bill. We took the bill from him, paid our share and waited for the others to pay theirs. The gay guy in black loungerie came on stage and danced. His special skill was "eating fire." Vic commented, "Naglalaro nga ng apoy."

While waiting for the others to settle the bill, the dancers came out. They were already dressed and the first 2 went to the far edge of the room where a big-fat-gay-guy was seated. They were chatting and the gay guy ordered food and the dancers ate.

My mind was comparing the scenes from the Chicago club and this club. The tricks were the same. Lap dance. Naked bodies. Free touch. Dollar bills inserted inside bodies. Same music. Same set-up. Same rules -No cameras allowed. The only difference is the size of the crowd. Clubs with female strippers attact a much larger crowd than clubs with male strippers.

While on our way out, Allan walked us out to the door. He said, "Pangga (an Ilonggo term of endearment), nag-enjoy ba kayo? Babalik kayo ha?"

I didn't say anything but asked him a question instead, "Allan, gaano na kayo katagal dito?"

"One month pa lang. Bagong lipat lang kami."

"Ang ibig kong sabihin, gaano na katagal ang club ninyo?"

"Mag one-year pa lang."

"Saan galing ang mga dancers nyo?"

"Sa Pilipinas. Sa atin. Sa mga club din dun. Sa Valentino's"

"Ilang taon na ang mga iyan?"

"Mga 21 to 22 years old."

I was starting to sense his uncomfortability with the questions I was asking, so he excused himself, said goodbye and left.

While on our way home, I was asking Alex (April's husband) what he felt seeing those guys in their nakedness.

"Naawa ako sa kanila, Ate."

"Oo nga. Nakakaawa. And what a way to earn money. Pero mas naawa ako dun sa mga babae sa Chicago."

"Ang hirap ng trabaho nila. Gabi-gabi, nakahubad ka tapos kelangan nakatayo palagi ang ari mo. Hindi ko kakayanin yun kung ako."

"Baka may daya yun."

April buts in, "Ate, may choice naman yung mga dancers eh. Pinili nila yung work na yun."

"I guess so."

Well, some maybe chose the job. Some maybe were victims of human trafficking. Some maybe were led by fate. I don't know. I don't have answers.

The business of flesh trade has been around since time immemorial. The courtesans during the Roman empire dined with emperors and kings. Magdalene was (according to the Bible) a prostitute. Geishas are very much part of the Japanese culture.

It just proves one thing. Sex, or the idea of sex, sells. And it is a big business.

A Virgin Journey to Managaha

2006-11-17T20:45:00.000-08:00

Managaha Island as seen from Micro Beach

My friends and I at Managaha

The weather was far from perfect - windy and the sea was a little rough - but the trip to Managaha was pushed through. We took the ferry to Managaha. Like excited kids, we trooped to the upper deck to drink the fresh breeze. After about 15 minutes, we reached Managaha. That small dot of island in the middle of Pacific Ocean.

I was not impressed. That's the downside when you've seen better beaches. (I've been all over the Philippines and have been to El Nido in Palawan, Boracay, Pearl Farm in Davao and Panglao in Bohol). The sand was not as white as I thought and the water was a little blurry, like smoked-glass. The only magic Managaha struck me with was the fishes. You feed them bread crumbs and at 4-feet deep, they snatch the bread crumbs hungrily like those coin-divers back at home. Kids, turned brown (deep dark brown) by sun and salt-water, scramble for coins thrown in the water by tourists.

Lying on a beach mat perfectly laid under the kind shade of coconut and pine trees, I became curious about the crowd - Chinese, Japanese and Koreans all sporting colorful bathing suits and beach shoes, speaking in their own languages, I felt like I was in the middle of Babel. Kids, frolic around with snorkels and vests, already faded by too much exposure to salt-water. Neon greens and oranges turned pathetic versions of their once colorful selves.

Young women parade around in flowery-2-piece suits and in the islet called Managaha, there were more semi-naked bodies per square inch than I saw in Panglao in Bohol last year. Any warm-blooded man, would be happy and would drown in nature's beauty. On the other hand, the field for interesting-looking guy is inversely proportional. It took me an hour to spot a well-tanned male body donning a dark-blue Speedo board shorts, showing fat-free abs, obviously gained from hours spent at the gym.

My curious feet made me walk around the island a bit, and another interesting thing that caught my eye was the nail polish. A woman in her 40's was wearing a green, heck!, neon green flip-flops, and interestingly enough, her nails were painted in green. Two young girls in their 20's, had their nails painted in aqua blue, while a kid who's obviously in her teens, was more artistic. Her nails were painted in deep black and dotted with silver images of what I assumed were stars. The solar system on her toes. A mother together with her 5-year old, had their nails painted in violet. Perfect mother and daughter match. I wonder what would the mother say if in one unfortunate event, she loses her child in a crowded mall. This would be announced in the paging booth:
"Lost girl, wearing pink skirt and Barbie T-shirt, 5-years old, toe-nails painted in violet just like her mother's."

In an island where people of different cultures meet, it's quite interesting how we all behave alike. Young boys eye young girls. Moms, tell their kids to wear vests before running off in the water, rubbing sunblock lotions to eager faces and impatient bodies. Young girl friends adjust their swimsuits every 10-seconds or so, obviously showing off young bodies at its peak. Old ladies, lie on beach mats with their sun-shades guarding bags and what-nots like faithful sentinels.

The way people rub suntan lotions on each other's backs reveal so much about their relationships. I see two Japanese couples rub suntan. The strokes - slow, thorough, sweet. Honeymooners, perhaps. While another couple, the husband, just pour the suntan on his wife's back and with few haphazard and thoughtless back rubs, closes the lotion and rummages his bag for his googles. The wife's back is left with a blotch of white patches like an abstract painting whose meaning, nobody ever got. Hmmm, couples who are obviously bored with each other and are probably just tolerating each other's presence.

The sky was overcast. The sun was kind but the water fell short of my expectations. The wind was blowing on my face and I scan the endless ocean of grean and blue. Managaha's physical charms failed to entice me. No jaw dropping Wow! escaped from my lips. But, this little island has given me a glimpse of how interesting people are. The people who came to Managaha on that overcast Saturday morning was perhaps, Managaha's charm. It proved once more that the only zen we bring on top of the mountain (or on the bottom of the sea) is the zen we carry inside ourselves. The tourists, like actors in play made Managaha a wonderful stage and thats the magic I caught.

Trick or Treat in Saipan

2006-11-08T17:09:00.000-08:00

Trick or Treat at Tototville!

The 3 "Wicked" Witches! He!he!he!

Mr. Miyagi and Superman

Mr. Miyagi and Superman and Me

Batman, Harry Potter, Mr. Miyagi, Pink Butterfly, Superman, Snow White and Princess. Cute Kids!!!!!!!

Aaron Francia and Bella Bargfrede

Spooky Town!!!!!

October 31, 2006

The bank declared a shortened banking hours so we could prepare for trick or treat. In the Philippines, trick or treat is not common. Only the exlusive subdivisions where various expats live, would practice treat or trick.

Here in Saipan, treat or trick is another occasion to party. My officemates prepared a big bag of candy for the kids, bought spare-ribs for barbeque, bread and soda for the celebration. It was my first time to go trick or treat!

Karen (a Chamorro officemate) invited us to her house in Tototville. I invited 3 of my friends to join us so they could experience the fun too. Just like me, they've never been to a trick or treat before.

Tototville is your typical American subdivision. The houses were identical and there are no fences. The houses were decorated with jack-o-lanterns, spider webs and ghost-like figures. Some even played scary music in the background.

It was like Christmas in November! There were a lot of kids going from house to house saying, "trick or treat!" In turn, the adults would give them candies. The kids were wearing costumes. Some were dressed as Superman, Batman, Snow-White and my boss' daughter was a butterfly. She was a pink butterfly and she was so cute!

My friends and I accompanied the kids as they went from one house to another. After that, we headed for Karen's house and it was our turn to distribute the candies for the kids who came. We greeted them, "Happy Halloween." Some of the kids came in spooky costumes and masks. Some girls were so cute in their Disney Princess costumes.

When our candies ran out, we had dinner. Karen prepared barbeque, rice, pickled papaya, hotdogs and burger patties. The kids, including us, had a lot of fun playing billiards in the kiddie billiards table.

It was such a different experience because in the Philippines, almost everybody goes to the cemetery during Halloween. It's a somber time spent remembering the departed. Here in Saipan, Halloween time is fun time for the kids and a chance for the adults to get-together.

Fiesta!

2006-11-02T22:09:00.000-08:00

Here is a picture story of a typical Chamorro Fiesta. These pictures were taken on October 28, 2006 during the Biba si Jesucristo Tuna Fiesta.

The Lechon!

The Buffet Table! Get all the food you can eat and more!

The Desert Table! Hmmm, cake! Hmmm, salad! Hmmmm, fruits! Hmmm, pies!

One plate for here! One plate to go!

Your choice! Chocolate! Strawberry! Plain!

The staple of every Chamorro fiesta! The Java rice!

Fellow-OFWs attending the fiesta! Elmer, Beng, April and Cathy!

The Chapel!

Martin. The Chamorro officemate who invited us.

Sleepless in Saipan

2006-10-30T21:24:00.000-08:00

Every night is a struggle to clock in at least 8 hours. This is one of those ordinary nights wherein I toss and turn and can't sleep at night, it's worrying me (yeah, I know it sounds familiar). This is a blow-by-blow account of the struggle of an insomniac.
9:00pm - I get ready for bed. Wear my pyjamas. Clean my face, brush my teeth. I fluff my pillows. Straighten my bed covers and lie down. After 10 minutes, my eyes refuse to close. My mind goes over what transpired during the day. Just like a director shooting a scene that does not make the grade, my mind goes" "Take 1. OK! Not good enough. Take 2 then. What if I did this instead of doing that?"

9:30pm - Sleep does not come. I am beginning to turn to an impatient suitor.

9:45pm - I reach for my book. Right now, I am reading another one by Isabel Allende. I am on the last few pages of Zorro.

10:00pm - My eyes are drowsy. I am beginning to fall asleep. The letters swim before my eyes. The book falls off my bed and I am off to dreamland.

1:30am - I wake up. Look at my watch. I try to figure out what time it is. One hand points at 6, while the other points at 1. I don't see which is the long hand and which is the short hand. The dim light makes it hard for me to figure out. I check my phone instead. Shit! It's 1:30am.

1:50am - I try the breathing exercises I read from Cory Quirino's column.
Inhale . . . . Hold for 10 seconds. . . . . Exhale. . . .

2:00am - Still, the exercises don't work. I am starting to feel the tension. I need to sleep, damn it! I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. (or is it today already?)

2:10am - Desperate, I get up. Turn the lights on and reach out for Zorro again. I finish the novel and start to see the pattern in all of Allende's novels. Well, authors would always have that recurring theme and/or characters in their novels. The character who refused to speak after a traumatic event (House of the Spirits; Zorro). The house/mansion with so many rooms and interesting stories (House of the Spirits, Zorro; My Portrait in Sepia). John Grisham would always have the Mafia as a backdrop for his novels. Erich Segal with the struggle of the Jews, the Hitler era and modern-day America.

2:30am - I scribble my random thoughts in my journals. My writing does not follow a logical pattern. No theme stands out. I give up and stop writing.

3:00am - Is my fellow contract worker still awake? Should I chat with him? Well, he's been too aloof lately. He might not reply. Or maybe he's fast asleep. The Hamlet question: "To text or not to text...."

3:15am - It's November. Just a few more months. Just a few more days. I am halfway with my Saipan adventure. Everything has been pretty good so far.

3:30am - Tick....tock....tick.....tock.....tick.....tock.....

3:45am - I close my eyes real tight. Pull my blanket over my head. Lie straight like a stiff cadaver. I try to recite the mantra....."Let go of all thoughts and relax...."

4:00am - The pressure heightens. I think of all the work I have to finish tomorrow. Please God, let me sleep. I remember an acquaintance who told me that he could sleep for 14hours straight. I get envious of his "talent." Sleeping is his way of coping with homesickness he said.

4:30am - tossing and turning......tossing and turning....tossing and turning....

5:00am - I lose another battle. I give up. I just hug my pillow and remain in bed. I still have 2 more hours before my get-out-of-the-bed time.

5:30am - My eyes remain closed. My mind wide open. Planning. Thinking. Wishing.

6:00am - Tick.....tock.....tick.....tock....tick....tock....

6:30am - The neighbors come alive. The radio at unit S-29 is on. I hear someone frying something. The kids are up.

7:00am - Stretch......stretch.....stretch......

7:30am - Time to get up. Brush my teeth. Prepare my sandwich. Choose what to wear. My body doesn't feel rested. My eyes are red. I look like a stale fish.

7:35am - My grilled cheese sandwich is done. Time to take a bath.

7:50am - Dress up. Wear my office outfit. Fix my hair. Put a little blush on my face to hide the I-lost-another-battle-with-insomnia look. Dash my eyes with a few colours. A little lipstick. Off to work I go.

8:00am - I am in my car. Listening to some mushy songs from a Martin Nievera CD while driving. I sing along real loud to vent out my frustration.

8:30am - I sip on my brewed coffee. Take a bite on my sandwich while checking my e-mails. I am ready for another day in the corporate jungle. Tonight would be another battle. I hope I'll have my 8 hours. I am looking forward to getting it. I am hoping against hope.

Judge for a Day

2006-10-26T22:33:00.000-07:00

Classroom C2 at the Garapan Elementary School. Notice the computers. Macs!

A typical kindergarten classroom in a public school here in Saipan

Last Saturday (October 21, 2006) I got invited to volunteer as a judge at the Primary Grade Forensic Conference (sounds fancy right?) held at Garapan Elementary School. It was actually a speech contest. My qualifications? Well, I used to join these kinds of contests when I was in grade school.

The contest is open to grade school children of all public and private schools in Saipan. The contest covers 6 events: The Reader's Forum, Duo Interpretation, Humorous Interpretation, Dramatic Interpretation, Choral Speaking and Impromptu Speaking.

After being given a short briefing on the events, the forms and the room assignments, I was directed to room C2. We were in pairs and my teammate was Cathy, a fellow accountant.

I was impressed with the kind of classrooms public schools have here. They had computers (the computers were Macs!), books, building blocks and aircon. C2 was a classroom for kindergarten class. In the Philippines, only the private schools have these kinds of facilities and of course the tuition fee would cost the parents an arm and a leg. Oh well, public schools in Saipan are funded by the US government.

Cathy and I were to sit as judges for 3 events - Dramatic Interpretation, Reading Forum and Impromptu Speech.

Dramatic Interpretation is more like a declamation contest. But, since the contestants are 5-year olds, they could read their pieces. Most kids have memorized their pieces and I couldn't believe they were 5-year olds. The kids were tall for their ages, they spoke fluently (no baby talk) and they were very confident (except for one kid who spoke so softly). I was so impressed with this girl who was so good. Her diction was perfect that I had goosebumps while she was reciting her speech.

The kids were given a code so the judges would not know their names and from what school they were from. Most kids recited Shel Silverstein pieces, one kid did Captain, my Captain - a Walt Whitman classic.

Two kids recited "Soldier, my Soldier." A story about a maid (lady) who wanted to marry this soldier. The soldier had a lot of excuses, like he didn't have boots or trousers. The maid (lady) tried to provide what the soldeir wanted so he would marry her. In the end, the soldier confessed that he can't marry the maid (lady) because he has a wife. I thought, "What an asshole!" Why didn't he tell the maid that he was married the very first time they met. Why did he give all these lousy excuses about him not having boots or trousers etc. The soldier is a typical jerk, isn't it?

After the first event, we tallied the scores and gave the results to the coordinator. A short break followed. The 2nd event which was the Reading Forum was also fun. I was amazed at how kids read nowadays. They don't have the sing-song accent we used to have in grade school. They read with feelings. They were prepared. Some even wore their party dress and of course, moms put a little make-up and lipstick to little girls. The boys looked cute with their polos and neckties.

The most anticipated event was the Impromptu Speaking contest. What? Impromptu Speech for 5-year olds? They were to pick a topic from the envelope and were given 5 minutes to prepare. Mom or dad or coach could help and then the kid will deliver the speech.

The topics were: I wish I could be a cloud because

: I wish could be water because

: I wish could be paper because

and

: 3 things I don't like about trouble

: 3 things I don't like about homework
: 3 things I don't like about ice-cream.

Most of the parents wrote the speech. However, they just enumerated the 3 things they didn't like about homework or trouble or ice-cream or whatever topic was chosen. The contest could actually be called Speechwriting Contest or Enumeration Contest for Mom and Dad. If I had a kid and the contest would be like this, I could make my kid win without breaking a sweat.

One topic which really puzzled me was: 3 things I don't like about nothing. Huh? Would a 5-year old be able to talk about this topic? How could one discuss this complicated topic without going through philosophical rumblings?

We finished tallying the scores at 1pm. The list of winners were posted in the cafeteria. I was busy looking at the list when I felt a hand tug my T-shirt. It was the girl that made my hair stood at its end. The girl who gave me goosebumps. She was smiling and she said, "Thank you."

She won first place. I felt so happy for her. I took a closer look at at her and noticed that her dress was kindda old and faded. She looks like a poor kid but she was really good. She deserved to win.

While walking back to my car, I offered a silent wish for that little girl. I wished that life would be kind to her. That she continues her studies. That she does well in school and that she succeeds in whatever endeavor she chooses.

To be a judge for a day is such a heartwarming experience.

My Fellow OFW: A Profile

2006-10-23T01:15:00.000-07:00

The first time I met him was during the preliminary interview. He was sent to Manila to screen the applicants for the position I applied for. I can distinctly remember the blue polo he was wearing because it had floral designs. He reminded me of Lito Atienza's Hawaiian inspired polos.

Anyway, when the headhunter representative said that the Chief Financial Officer was to interview me, I was expecting someone who would be in his 50's. Someone older.

He came to the room smiling. I was a bit nervous because it was my first job interview after so many years. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw him. He was young. He was about my age. As it turned out, he was only 39, just 4 years older than I was.

His first question was, "Tell me something about yourself."

Hah! The standard interview question. With my I-can-speak-English-pretty-well attitude, I started to tell him about myself focusing on my passion for writing and my love for travelling. I think he ran out of English terms (read: naubusan ng english. he!he!) so he shifted to Tagalog. Oh, well, then I started to speak in Tagalog too. The interview was like talking to an auditee.

He said that he used to work with my bank too, so we started to talk about people we know.

Him: "Kumusta na si Ms. Area Head?"

Me: "Ay, nag exit-conference ako with her a few weeks back. I audited one of her branches."

Me: "Sino ang mga nag-audit sa branch mo dati."

Him: "Si Cecile. Yung maganda pero maliit na auditor. Si Pinky, yung serious..... (Smiles) Bagsak nga ako palagi sa audit eh."

The interview went well. I never gave it much thought. I was too detached to focus on it.

To make the long story short, I got the job. I passed the final interview (with the President and the Chairman of the Board). My Fellow Contract Worker started sending me e-mails. He was asking about the interview. If I gave my resignation already. My preparations. The tone of his e-mails were solicitous. I thought, "He seems to be a really nice person."

When I arrived here in Saipan, he bacame my constant companion. An adviser of sorts. He said he knew about cars (he had 2 in the Philippines before) and he has been driving for 15 years. I didn't know anything about cars, so he would offer me advice on what car to buy. For almost a month, we would scout every car dealer in the island looking for the perfect second hand car for me. Something that would be nice and would fit my budget. Little did I know that everything would lead to the traumatic and I-shed-a-bucket-of-tears episode of my Saipan adventure. (Many months have passed but I would always wonder if I was deliberately led to it or not.)

He became my constant lunch (and sometimes dinner) companion. At lunch, we would trade stories about our former bank. He would tell me stories about his life in Saipan. His experiences as an OFW. The not so wonderful experiences he had with the Chamorros (specifically with the boyfriend of one officemate and the attitude of his staff). His plans for the bank. His plans for his family and his personal life.

I would share with him my opinions about certain issues. I would probe into his stand on religion (not a very good topic to discuss), gender issues and feminism, office politics. We would discuss about movies and films. He could talk and the most interesting conversations I had was with him. We would have differing opinions and sometimes he can't explain his points of view very well (specially about gender issues) but he's the only person whose mind came close to mine. Yet, there would always be a certain wariness on his part. I can't quite figure it out exactly. He would resort to technicalities and word play when certain issues are raised. Sometimes he would send me biting text messages about how to do my job. I wonder what his motivations are. I would text back answering the messages using the tone of a docile child, or a Gabriela Silang or a detached unmotivated yuppie depending on my mood.

On a personal level, he would tell me about his latest conquests (his girls of course!) while chatting on the YM. He would text me about how his gimmick went (which usually starts at around 10pm and would last till wee hours in the morning). Sometimes, he would come to the office with blood shot eyes and fresh-out-of-the-bed outfit. He would wait until lunchtime so he could take a nap or go home early so he could catch some sleep. I should not care. It's none of my business but I was concerned on how the Chamorros would view us. We were the only contract workers in our company and we came from the same bank in the Philippines. If I tell the Chamorros the kind of discipline we had with our former bank, would they believe me? They would just look at my fellow contract worker and conclude that I am lying. So, I try to live up to the image of a professional banker. I am straight as a rod in a world of crooked ones. He was self-destructing right before my eyes.

I would quietly listen to his stories and be interested in them. I would listen as he tells me why he didn't go to the office.

Him: "I wasn't feeling very well."

Me: "Again? Why?"

Him: "I feel demoralized."

Me: "Well, we live and have to deal with the way corporate politics move here, so let's just do what we have to do."

Him: "You know what? I stayed in my apartment the whole day and cleaned it."

Me: "That's good." (I remember my earlier days in Saipan when my apartment is so clean because I don't have anything to do and was so bored to my bones. I would clean and scrub my bathroom till my hands are raw.)

Him: " I scraped all the paint spots on the floor. I used a knife to do it. All the time, my mind was flying."

During these times, my heart would just melt for him. He and I are on the same journey and I understand his plight perfectly. But the next day, he would be up and about as if nothing happened.

I have this theory that he's just midlifing. He's your typical Pinoy macho and although he tells me all these experiences, I wonder how he truly feels about it deep in his heart.

These past few months, he has built a wall around him and I have started to build my own circle of friends too. We have created and followed different paths yet his experiences are still closest to my own(except for the night outs and gimmicks of course). I could relate to him because we are so alike in more ways than one. We move in the same world of accounting. We came from the same disciplined and ultra-conservative financial institution that helped shape our work ethic. We get shocked at the strange (for lack of better word) financial environment of Saipan.

I tell him, "Being alone could be a very spiritual experience you know. Being alone does not necesarily mean that you are lonely. We learn a lot about ourselves when we are alone."

I don't know how he processes personal thoughts. He holds back often. I guess he thinks I am too nosy.

He may have done many things that I better not tell you dear reader, but you see, my fellow contract worker is one of the many faces of the Pinoy diaspora. He left the comforts and security of his job. He left his family to pursue the mighty dollar. He had screwed some things (and people too!) here in Saipan and he has decided to stay for another year or two. I know he will thrive here and I could bet on that.

But life has very strange twists and turns. I could only wish him well.

Note:

My Fellow Contract Worker has decided not to renew his contract in January 2007.

Apat na Pinoy

2006-10-18T23:45:00.000-07:00

May apat na Pinoy sa kumpanyang aking pinaglilingkuran. Si Tita, Si Ate, Si Kuya at si Bunso.

Si Tita at si Ate mga American Citizens na. Blue ang passport at may tatak agila. Si Tita ang asawa ay Chinoy na lumaki sa America kaya ugali at utak Kano. 12 years na sa Saipan si Tita. Nanirahan sa California bago pumunta dito. May isang cute at bibong anak na lalake. Mabait si Tita. Maalalahanin at maasikaso. Matapang at diretso magsalita. Mga katangiang hinangaan ko sa kanya.

Nitong mga nakaraang buwan, palagi kong nakakasama at nakakausap si Tita. Marami siyang naikukwento sa akin tungkol sa mga personal na mga bagay, mga hinaing at reklamo sa trabaho at kung anu-ano pa. Masarap kasama si Tita. Kasi nga nanay kaya alaga ako kapag sya ang kasama. Karay-karay nya ako sa mga padasal, kainan at minsan sa shopping. Maraming kwento si Tita. Hindi sya nauubusan ng topics. Maraming bagay ang halos pareho sa buhay namin. Panganay kami pareho kaya natanim sa mga pagkatao namin ang responsibilidad hindi lang sa aming mga sarili kundi na rin sa buong pamilya. Ang buong pamilya ni Tita (nanay at mga kapatid) ay nandito nang lahat sa Saipan. Si Tita ang comfort zone ko kapag may okasyon sa bangko. Maraming okasyon ang muntik ko nang hindi dinaluhan kasi hindi ako "in" sa mga inuman ng mga Chamorro. Buti na lang bawal sa relihiyon nina Tita ang uminom ng alak kaya sumasama ako kapag nandun sya. Si Tita madaming advice sa akin. Minsan nakikinig ako. Minsan hindi. Pero lahat ng kwento nya, lalo na tungkol sa mga personal na mga bagay sa buhay nya ay nakatago sa puso ko dahil alam kong mahalaga yun sa kanya. Pero isang bagay ang kailangan kong isiwalat para sa artikulong ito. Si Kuya ay hindi kabilang sa mga taong paborito ni Tita.

Si Kuya, katulad ko ring OFW. Green ang passport at kadalasan kailangan manikluhod sa mga Kano, Hapon, Italyano atbp. just in case gusto naming makatapak sa bansa ng mga ito. (Read: Kung gusto naming magka-visa. Kapag US Citizen kasi hindi kailangan ng visa kahit saan lupalop ng mundo gustong mamasyal.) Dalawang taon na dito sa Saipan si Kuya. May asawa at dalawang anak sa Pilipinas. (Hindi ko alam kung meron din dito sa Saipan). Mahilig sa babae pero ayaw umamin na babaero sya. Friendly lang daw kasi sya.

Si Kuya ay manager dati sa bangkong pinanggalingan namin, pero ngayon ko lang nakita at nakilala. Sa 10 years na pagiging "magka-opisina" namin, ngayon lang kami naging magka-opisina talaga. Matalino si Kuya. Summa cum laude at mataas ang nakuha sa CPA board exams. Kung susuriin maganda ang resume pero may kulang. Siguro sa character nya.

Mabait naman si Kuya (kung may kailangan), maalalahanin din naman (sa umpisa), masayang kasama (kapag walang topak), maraming ideas (huwag mo lang kokontrahin at maraming palusot na alam yan). Isa siyang ehemplo ng corporate animal. Mataas ang sweldo ni Kuya, isang palatandaan na alam nyang gumalaw sa mundo ng mga kapitalista. Noong bago ako dito sa Saipan, ihinabilin ako ni Tita kay Kuya. Si Kuya ang aking palaging kasama. Alam kong maraming nag-akala na baka higit pa sa pagiging magka-opisina ang relasyon namin. Pero mali ang akala nila.

Dahil nga pareho kami sa maraming bagay, itinuring kong kaibigan si Kuya, pero hindi naglaon lumabas ang mga nakakatakot at hindi kaaya-aya nyang ugali. Ganun pa man, pinipilit kong maintindihan kung saan sya nanggagaling. Siguro ganun talaga kapag OFW kayo pareho (O siguro dahil likas akong mabait). Pero in fairness kay Kuya, kitang-kita ko sa mga mata nya kung gaano nya ipinagmamalaki ang mga anak nya. Kaya kahit nakakairita sya minsan (ay dumadalas na ngayon), I am trying my best na makita ang mga positibong aspeto sa pagkatao ni Kuya. Marami syang pilosopiya at mga gawain na hindi ako sang-ayon at minsan hindi ko ma-reconcile ang mga sinasabi nya sa ginagawa nya. Ganun pa man, gusto ko pa ring maniwala na may kabutihan pa rin sa puso si Kuya. Alam kong marami syang mga pangarap at plano para sa pamilya at sa sarili. Marami din syang naikwentong mga personal na bagay sa akin at lahat ng iyon ay nakasulat sa mga journals ko at alam ni Kuya na papatay ako ng tao kapag may bumasa ng mga iyon ng wala akong pahintulot.

Si Ate naman, makulay, magulo at masalimuot ang istorya ng buhay. American Citizen na din si Ate. Nakapag-asawa ng isang Chamorro ngunit nagkahiwalay sila ng kanyang asawa. May anak na dalagita. Masayang magkwento si Ate. Kalog. Babaeng bakla. At maraming tsismis na alam. Kapag nadadalaw ako sa branch niya, madami palagi syang kwento. Taga-pakinig lang naman ako kasi puro bago sa pandinig ko ang mga kwento nya. Kwento tungkol sa mga personal na buhay ng mga kaopisina namin, alam lahat ni Ate. Ate Cristy nga minsan ang tawag ko sa kanya. Pati mga kwento sa politika sa opisina, updated si Ate. Minsan nakapagtataka dahil malayo sya sa Head Office pero online pa rin sa mga chika. Lahat ng chika nya, totoo naman. Si Ate nga ang nagsabi sa akin tungkol sa mga chika na kumakalat tungkol sa akin. Siyempre sa umpisa nagalit ako, pero naisip ko, "Aba, at bakit ako mag re-react eh, hindi naman totoo?"

At dahil parang showbiz dito sa Saipan, ginaya ko ang ginagawa ng mga sikat na artista tulad nina Sharon. Dedmahin ang chika. I won't go down their level no? Ayun, tumahimik ang mga makakating dila.

Kapag nagkaroon ako ng pagkakataon na makasulat ng nobela o kahit short story lang, isa sa mga pagbabasehan ko ng karakter ay si Ate. Minsan kasi ang mga kwento nya sobrang strange. Pakiwari ko tuloy baka nagbibiro lang si Ate. O di kaya, she's formulating fiction too. Naalala ko tuloy yung sinabi ng propesor ko dati sa Fiction 10, "The fiction that is our lives.........."

Si Bunso naman, bagong salta sa Saipan. Mahilig sa libro, sa musika, sa pelikula, sa badminton, sa swimming (kahit hindi madunong lumangoy), sa kape at sa mga interesanteng tao at usapan. Nahihirapang mag-adjust sa buhay sa isla dahil sanay sa buhay Maynila. Hindi makasabay sa ritmo ng buhay isla dahil mas mataas ang antas ng mga hilig kaysa sa karamihan. Sa unang tingin, mataray at seryoso si Bunso. Pero kapag nakilala mo sya, makikita mo na mabait sya sa kaibigan, maalalahanin at mapagbigay. Hindi maramot sa kaalaman at handang magturo sa mga taong nais matuto. Idealist si Bunso. Gusto pa ring panghawakan ang pilosopiya na "Man is basically good." Ayan tuloy, ilang beses ng umiyak dahil sa mga salbaheng tao. Ngunit minsan, saan nga ba natututo kundi sa mga pagkakamali?

Introspective si Bunso. Manunulat kasi. Madaldal at makwento din minsan lalo na kung nakakatagpo ng mga taong katulad nya ng hilig. Hindi magtatagal sa isla si Bunso dahil ayon nga kay Tita, "Hindi ka para sa isla Bunso. Masyadong payak mag-isip ang karamihan ng tao dito sa isla. Mabo-bore ka dito."

Sa pangkalahatan, natutuwa ako at napadpad ako sa islang ito. Marami akong nakita, narinig, na-experience at nakilala. Totoo man o hindi ang mga kwento nina Ate, Tita, Kuya at Bunso, patuloy pa rin akong makikinig. Magtatanong. Maglilinaw. Interesado palagi dahil sila ay ako at ako ay sila.

Six Faces of Pinoy Diaspora - Saipan Version

2006-10-17T01:05:00.000-07:00

I don't even have to speak in English. I could go about my daily routines and get by. They say I am lucky. I earn more than what they would earn in 3 even in 4 years. I see them everywhere. Working as service crews in McDonalds, the standard question giving them away. "Dine-in or take out?" (In US Mainland the question would be, "For here or to go?")

Visit a sick friend in Commonwealth Health Clinic (CHC) and the nurses would be Pinoys. Read the newspapers: Saipan Tribune or Marianas Variety, the editors and the writers are Pinoys. Go to a strip club, the naked dancers are Pinay teen-agers. Check-in a hotel and the person who will clean your room would be a Pinoy too.

The standard question for every new acquaintances is, "Ilang taon ka na dito sa Saipan?" Some have stayed here for decades, enjoying the provincial and unhurried lifestyle in the island.

Some have not gone home for years and have lived an alternate life here in Saipan. New wife, new family, new kids even.

When I meet someone who came from Manila, I usually get the same reaction, "Napadpad pala ako sa probinsya. US territory na hindi mukhang Amerika." Hah! The disillusionment of the typical brown American.

However, those who came from the provinces in the Philippines like Tarlac, Pampanga, Batangas, Bataan or Pangasinan, never had much adjustment in terms of lifestyle because Saipan is generally just like those provinces.

These are some of the stories of the Pinoys here in Saipan. (Names have been changed to protect their identities)
Abby the DJ

I met Abby in one of the government agencies in Manila. We attended the same Pre-Departure Orientation Seminar. She is a seasoned OFW, having worked in Taiwan as a factory worker for 2 years. She said that she has a fiancee who is also working in Taiwan. "Balak na naming magpakasal next year. One year lang ako sa Saipan. Balak kong pumunta ng Canada."

She came to Saipan, two weeks before I did. After almost a month, we finally touched base. We kept in touch. She is working as a car rental agent in her aunt's car rental business. She has the spunk of youth, she's only 23. She laughs at my extreme caution. When she had her first salary, she called me "May sweldo na ako."
"Ako rin," I said.
"Magkano sinuweldo mo."
I kept quiet. I didn't dare tell her. "Basta."
"Ako, $400," the pride evident in her voice.
She volunteered as a guest DJ in one of the Pinoy radio stations here in Saipan. Reading text messages, answering calls and playing the listeners requests. After a few months, she had her own radio time slot. She was happy. She loved the attention she's getting. She feels famous because DJs here are the "celebrities." I see her once in a while at the airport when I go on my off-island trips. She tells me the intrigues and the politics on the radio station. The personal problems she has with her relatives. The new "boyfriend" and the show.
"Are you renewing your contract?" she asks me.
I just shrugged my shoulders.
"I am staying for another year. I am enjoying my radio show."
She has found her place in the island. And she is enjoying her shot of the limelight. I hope he does not wake up one day to feel its emptiness.

-0-0-0-
Amor the Temptress (?)

She's one of the two people I met before coming here in Saipan. She's a young mother at 28. She's pretty and she seems nice. She's a first time OFW like me. It's her first time to go out of the country. First time to even board a plane. First time to live alone and away from her family.
She worked as a saleslady in her cousin's boutique. The business was not doing well so the cousin didn't pay her salary. For months, her cousin treated her badly. The only nice person she knew was the cousin's husband who fell for her. The love-triangle went on for months until the cousin found out and went berserk.
Fortunately for her, she found a new job as a cashier in one of the famous hotels here. She lives in the hotel's housing facilities and the last time I saw her, she was crying, "Gusto ko nang umuwi."
I had a lot of questions in my head. How? Why? What happened? I never asked the questions though. She was in too much trouble already. All I did was listen.

-0-0-0

Pamela the Loveless (or Not?)

She's an accountant who sings beautifully and dances perfectly. She loves wearing maong skirt, showing her firm legs. She used to be married but chose her family responsibilities over her now ex-husband. The relationship did not end well so she still goes through emotional downtime when the ex-husband pops into her life once in a while. The ex-husband is in the Philippines.
She's funny in her bitchy way. "Hay, sister, kakabato talaga dito sa Saipan. Sunugin na natin ang islang ito. "
She joins me and Kat in badminton once in a while when she feels like it. She invites me to her gimiks but since I have a terrible singing voice and two left foot, I rarely join her night outs. She goes out on dates.
"Sister, happy ako ngayon. Dapat happy tayong lahat."
"Bakit ka happy?"
"Basta. Tsaka ko na lang sasabihin."
After a few weeks, she sends me an e-mail. "That guy is a jerk!"
Another one of those possible relationships that failed to bloom despite the high hopes.
Her best friend is a guy whom she has introduced to me. He is funny and he looks OK. They've been friends for a long time and they feel comfortable with each other. She texts him to pick her up after badminton and he comes running. He doesn't mind whether it's raining or it's late.
I had dinner with them one time and the hopeless romantic in me would wish, sana sila na lang. Unfortunately, the guy is married. Well, the complicated love stories of modern times. I wonder how this would end. I wish Pamela a happy ending. She deserves it.

0-0-0-0
Roderick the Lover

He is one of the first guys who was introduced to me. Barely a month in Saipan, I got invited hiking in Forbidden Island. He was one of my companions. He was handsome despite being dark. I bump into him once in a while. We just say "Hi" and "Goodbye."
But I always see him during badminton games. He has a "girlfriend" The "girlfriend" is "Fe." Fe is gay. He is an accountant and a 5-year OFW in Saipan. Fe plays badminton very well. Her drop shots are difficult to "answer" One Saturday, I played doubles with Roderick and Fe and another acquaintance whose name I cannot remember anymore. Fe and I were partners while Roderick and the other girl played against us. When Fe serves, Roderick would look intensely into Fe and wink at her. (How sweet!) They look beautiful together. I totally agree with that gay writer who once wrote, "Heterosexuals do not have a monopoly on love."

0-0-0-0

Karen and Kate - More than housemates

Karen is sexier than Kate. Karen is taller. Karen's boobs are bigger. In my opinion, Karen is prettier than Kate. Karen is the "man" in the relationship.
Some of my friends say that Kate is prettier than Karen (Beauty really is subjective). Kate is more charming. Kate is more prim and proper. Kate is the "girl" in the relationship.
They are both nurses. They look young. About 25 I guess. They look good together. During our badminton games, they usually are partners. Their game has greatly improved. I remember how Karen used to struggle with her service. She can't even get the shuttlecock in. Last week, Karen joined the tournament and won a few games against seasoned ex-tennis players now turned badminton fanatics.
One Sunday afternoon, when Karen and Kate passed by our area, I overheard one guy say, "Sayang no? Maganda pa naman."
I wondered, who was he referring to.
When I see Karen and Kate, I feel a quiet admiration for them. They look perfect for each other.

-0-0-0-0

Lisa - A Dream Turned Nightmare

She was one of the friendly waitresses in the hotel I stayed in. I was there for a month and during breakfasts, she and I would chat a bit. She's married with 2 kids in the Philippines. She shows me a school ID of her son and proudly say, "Matalino ang batang yan."

When I checked-out of the hotel and found my own apartment, I didn't see her anymore. The hotel closed after a month declaring bankruptcy. I went on with my life and met new acquaintances.

A few weeks ago, she sent me a text message. She said she wanted to kill herself because she has a very big problem. She called me and she was crying. "I need money to buy a ticket home."

I listened to her story, "She tried applying for jobs with other companies when the hotel closed, she found odd jobs, she fought with her sister and is now staying in her boyfriend's apartment. She needs to go home because her entry permit has expired but she does not have enough money for airfare."

I told her that she should go to the Philippine Consulate and ask for help. She said, she cannot do that because her papers were not in order. She came here sponsored by another person who was not really her employer and if she goes to the consulate and they would find out about it, she would be banned in Saipan forever.

One part of me wanted to help, but, I don't know her. I am wary of people with sob stories. (And I usually remit all my money home)

She was disappointed when I said I could not help her. She never got in touch after that. I don't have any idea what happened to her. I could only wish that her nightmare has ended.

There are a lot more stories I hear. I ask new acquaintances about their experiences and they gladly share it to me. The stories are interesting. But most often than not, they would evolve around the romantic side of life. Maybe it's the loneliness that envelops this island. When you are alone, extremely bored and homesick, the companionship offered by other people soon develops into alternate relationships. In this island of illusions, people make do.

An Octopus, A Crab, A Deer and A Bat

2006-10-15T02:34:00.000-07:00

Steamed Octopus

Fruit Bat in Coconut Milk and Corn

Stir Fried Octopus

Coconut Crab in Coconut Milk

When it comes to food, I could say that I am pretty much adventurous. I am willing to try anything as long as I could chew and swallow it. For someone who had ameobaiasis some few years back, I still am willing to give my taste buds a different kind of experience.

Here in Saipan, I tried all the kinds of food I was offered. Bread fruit, sashimi, kimchi, soba with hot pepper. I even tried "chewing bettlenut." It's a common practice here. Almost everybody chews bettlenut. In the Philippines, only the old ones do but here in Saipan, men, women, teen-agers chew bettlenut like crazy.

It was during an officemate's birthday party. They were chewing and I asked them to describe how it tastes like. Of course, they just said, "Why don't you try it?" I got a tiny piece of the bettlenut, put some lime on it and wrapped it with the leaf. I put it in my mouth and started to chew. After about 3 seconds, I threw it all up. God! It tastes like poison. I can't describe the taste. All I knew is, I will not try it again and I don't like it.

Last Thursday, when I was in Rota (one of the islands in CNMI), it was another food adventure for me. I ate Octopus, Deer meat, Coconut crab and dyaran!!!!!!! Bat!
Yep, I ate Octopus. It tastes like squid only a bit tougher and more bland. It was steamed and I dipped it in soy sauce with wasabe. Not a very spectacular experience. I like squid better. At least squid is more tender and more tasty. Even the stir-fried version did not taste that good.
Squid pa rin ako. Steamed. Grilled or Adobo.

Deer Meat cooked in coconut milk. In Tagalog, "Ginataang USA" The meat was tasty. It was tender and it's the better version of beef. Health wise, they say it's better than any other meat because deer meat is lean meat. It doesn't have much fat.

Coconut Crab. I ate the "sipit" part. The meat was tougher than the ordinary crab meat. It was cooked with coconut milk too but they removed the "gata" and served it dry. They put the "gata" in a mug and they served it as soup. I just took a sip. It was so tasty, but due to too much coconut milk, I did not dare suffer the laxative effect. I still have a job to finish and I can't afford a bum stomach.

The Bat. It was cooked in coconut milk also. They served it on a bowl with sweet corn on top of it. I could figure out the shape of the bat from the white soup. The bat wings figured out prominently.

"What is it?" I asked, hoping it was not what I thought it was.
"Bat." One of guys answered.
"Bat?" "As in the bat?"
"Yes." They chorused.
"Where did you guys get it?" "From a cave?"
"No!" "That's a different kind. This one is a fruit bat."

I figured, OK, a fruit bat. Therefore, this bat eats fruits only.

It was a big bat. The wing span was about 7 inches. I got the spoon and tried to stir it up. They cooked it without removing the skin so the "balahibo" was still intact. I didn't get to see the head and the body. Just the legs and the wing part.

One of the guys was eating heartily. He got the leg part and ate it like a fried chicken drumstick. He looked at me and said, "Try it."

Well, the adventurer in me accepted the challenge. I took a tiny sliver of the meat. It's a dark meat like beef.

I put the meat in my plate, and I was unconscious of how the locals were looking at me. I turned the tiny meat around, inspected it and put it in my mouth. The smell was so strong that it registered in my tounge. The most apt description for the smell would be the smell of a damp rug which was kept in a locked and unventilated room for a week.

"The male fruit bat smells that way. But the female fruit bat has no smell." The guy volunteered the information.

The meat has the consistency of beef. I chewed and swallowed. I didn't throw up but I didn't get another serving. I just watched the locals while they ate the bat with gusto. Well, here in Rota the bat is a rare delicacy.

While on our way back to the hotel, my companion told me, "Hindi maipinta ang mukha mo kanina habang kinakain mo yung paniki."

I replied, "I was just trying to savor the experience. "

So here I am, sharing the food adventure I had. I wish I had the vocabulary of the late Doreen Fernandez when it comes to describing food. (Unfortunately, I have a limited repertoire of words to describe food.)

But come to think about it, the high sense of adventure I have when it comes to food reflects the way I approach some of the issues life brings me. Sometimes, all you have to do is try it so you could decide if you like it or not. If it's good for you or not. However, this dare-devil attitude goes pfftt when it comes to my swimming. How I wish I have this confidence when it comes to my hydrophobia. Well, I am a work in progress..........

Death-Saipan Style

2006-10-04T03:31:00.000-07:00

The first time I saw the obituary section of the Saipan Tribune, I was shocked. The pictures of those who died were in the notices. It was eerie!

Tita Lee (a Fil-Am who's been in the island for some time) invited me to a rosary one Tuesday evening after office. She usually calls me Bunso (because I was the youngest among us 4 Pinoys in the office).

"Bunso, samahan mo ako sa rosary ng isang customer natin."

Rosary is equivalent to the Pinoy "padasal". It usually lasts for 9 days and ends on the day of the funeral.

The rosary was in Chamorro. An old lady was leading it. It was similar to what we have in the province. An old lady who prays really fast would lead the rosary and would utter all this Latin-sounding words which I think nobody understands anyway.

Although I don't understand Chamorro, the intonation and the way the rosary was done was very similar to the way we do it in the Philippines.

After the rosary, everybody went out in the church and lined-up for dinner in the social hall. As usual, food was abundant or say over-flowing. It was enough to feed the whole island of Saipan for the next 2 days.

I was asking Tita Lee, "Nasaan po yung patay?"

She said, "Nasa freezer ng hospital."

Unlike in the Philippines, the 9-day wake is not practiced here. They say the rosary for the soul of the dead, eat and go home. That is why, there is no sense of grief in the air.

Tita Lee greeted one of the daughters of the dead person and offered her condolences. The daughter said "Thank You" and after listening to few kind words for the dead, she went to other tables to mingle and talk to the other guests.

There were a lot of people and everybody ate to their heart's content. The usual fare of java rice, bread fruit, barbeque, fried chicken, menudo, kaldereta, breaded veggies deep fried in oil, cakes, fruits, sushi, salad and lechon were laid in 5 long tables.

The usual style here in Saipan is to take home food. You line up, get at least 3 paper plates and fill the plate till it overflows. Eat what you can then use the other extra plates to cover the food you will take home. Another way to do it is to get the food you will eat, go to your table, then line up to the buffet table once again and get the food you will take home. This is the reason why Chamorros usually prepare a lot of food during parties and other gatherings.

I remember when I was just new here, one Filipino said, "Alam mo, kung makapal lang ang hiya mo, pwede kang mabuhay dito ng libre. Wala kang gagastusin sa pagkain."

"Paano?"

"Magbasa ka lang ng diyaryo araw-araw. Abangan mo kung sino ang namatay at dun ka makikain."

It would be in bad taste really, but Pinoys can have the most cunning ideas sometimes.

After the 9-day padasal is the viewing period. The funeral services or the embalmer takes out the cadaver from the morgue, prepares the body and the viewing usually takes place in the church before the mass for the dead. (I wonder how a frozen and thawing dead person would look like but I feel too uncomfortable looking at dead people.)

After the Mass is the funeral. Then, another padasal or rosary would take place. The next 9-day padasal would be exclusively for family members and immediate relatives.

My accountant's brain couldn't help but compute the cost of feeding the whole island for 9 straight days. It's like celebrating Fiesta (Feast Day) for 9 days. $1,000 per night would translate to a whopping $9,000 in total. No wonder Chamorros would often take a loan and the purpose would be, funeral expenses.

Attending a rosary made me realize the many similarities between Filipino and Chamorro culture particularly the rosary and the food. The only difference is you would not see the dead person until the viewing time. There are no funeral parlors here wherein the wake takes place. Grief among the people who attend the rosary do not show as much because you can not see the dead anyway.

In the Philippines many dramatic moments (wailing relatives - Bakit mo ako iniwan?") are evoked by a coffin being watched over by relatives. Many family secrets are exposed (dalawa pala ang asawa or may anak pala sa labas) during the wake.

The Chamorro wake or lamay is not overly dramatic. Grief is kept personal and repressed. Maybe it's from their American influences.

Adjusting to the Rhythm of Life in Saipan

2006-10-02T03:35:00.000-07:00

When my friends came to visit me last month, I noticed that something has changed in me. I no longer hurry. Deadlines no longer govern my life because deadlines here in Saipan are not really dead lines.

My work starts at 8:30 am. I usually wake up at 7:30am and depending on the kind of sleep I had, I stay in the bed for another 10 minutes or so. I prepare my "baon" (usually a sandwich), take a bath and dress up for work in a span of 30 minutes.

Driving at 35mph, I reach the office in 15 minutes. Breakfast of coffee and sandwich follows and the day starts.

The President drops by in my office and we talk about office issues. Sometimes a little chat about our personal activities, his golf and his daughter, my badminton game and how I am adjusting to life here in Saipan.

My officemates are mostly Chamorros. Their lifestyle is very much different from what I am used to. Their attitude towards work is also unique. They lack the drive to excel. Mediocrity is common. It seems that they just want to get the day over and done with. The way they dress for office is very casual.

They usually chew bettlenut during the day. They take 15 minutes cigarette breaks in the morning and in the afternoon. Lunch break is an hour and is usually availed to the max.

During the week, when they get invited to parties, they go to the office looking wasted and groggy. Clear signs of a terrible hangover from last night's party.

A party here means drinking Bud Light and eating barbeque. Everybody here drinks Bud Light expertly. Even the girls in the office could give the guys a run for their money. Bud Light for them can be likened to Coke or maybe even water. For someone whose beer drinking limit is one bottle, I am a spoilsport.

They always party. I wonder what do they celebrate? They love to just hang out in the beach and drink beer, eat barbeque, play a bit of volleyball and just fool around. Maybe it's the island lifestyle. A lifestyle I have difficulty adapting to. <

/div>

(My fellow contract worker has assimilated himself so well in this kind of lifestyle. An expert drinker (maybe he's an alcoholic too), he could party with the locals and fool around with them. )

My job requires that I check reports and documents prepared by my officemates. I have to validate the entries in the reports. They give me the documents alright. They are fast and I don't have to wait for long. But ask them what the document contains, and you have to wait forever for their answers. They would always say, "Well, this was during X's time." or whoever was in-charge at that point. They couldn't explain the logic of things. There is something awfully missing in their line of reasoning. Call it analytical ability and I observed that very few of them, possess it. I could be wrong but when I talk to fellow Filipinos, their general comment would always be the same as mine. I know it's cruel and I could be charged with racism or something but ask every Pinoy in this island and if that Pinoy is honest enough to admit it, he would agree to my observation.

Living in such a small island and with the mighty Uncle Sam always to the rescue when you screw things up, Chamorros do not have to struggle and strive for the most basic things in life like food, shelter and even education.

The US Federal Government issues food stamps to low-income groups. Shelter could be free (with FEMA assistance during typhoons) and education is patterned after the US Public School System. (Although my impression is that the quality of Public Education here is not comparable to US Mainland standards, but that's another story). The school-bus looks very much like the school bus I see on Holywood movies.

Chamorros are generally fat people. Diabetes is an epidemic here. Since almost everybody has a car (there is no public transport here), people are not forced to walk or move around that much. The Chamorro diet usually consists of meat. A lot of meat. Barbequed ribs. Pork, chicken and beef. They don't have a lot of farmers here. So fresh vegetables and fruits are expensive. Soba or instant noodles is a daily fare. Although they live in an island, there is no commercial fishing here. There is no "palengke" or wet market where you could buy fresh fish and seafood at reasonable prices. There are few stalls that sell fish and seafood but you have to clean them yourself and they are not usually cheap. It's a lot of hassle really.

A typical Chamorro fashion is a duster with flower designs for mature people and cleavage-revealing blouses for the youngsters. Old ladies wear their dusters at Church on Sundays. Their long hair tied to a bun, with a Plumeria flower as accent and on special occasions, a 'mwar-mwar" lie on top of their head like a crown. A mwar-mwar is a crown-like accessory made of local and indigenous flowers like Plumeria (calacuchi) and Hibiscus (gumamela). A Chamorro teen-ager on the other hand would sport a long hair (usually up to their butts) with brown highlights, also tied into a bun and accented by Plumeria or Hibiscus. Their earrings are the huge, round silver type. Their blouses are cleavage-revealing type (which in the Philippines could generate various reactions depending on your body type). Their breasts and "bilbils" seem to scream, "Let me out of here. Damn it!"

They love to wear high-heeled sandals. Their toe-nails badly in need of pedicure and foot spa. Because of the limited inventory of shoes in a handful of shoe stores here in the island, the pair of shoes you wear is the same pair worn by ten other girls you'll meet on the street.

Coming from a country where music is eclectic, Chamorro music is basically a uni-sound. It's cha-cha music. A perfect background music for siesta. Try listening to it on a windy Sunday afternoon after lunch and you will know what I mean. Pinoys dominate the entertainment scene here. The best bands (although if you've seen the best in the Philippines, everything here is mediocre), are of course, you guessed it right - Pinoys!

There is only one movie house here in Saipan - the Hollywood Theater. Movies are mainstream Hollywood and box-office hit Pinoy movies. In the past 7 months, Pinoy movies such as Sukob and You are the One, have been shown here. Art and award-winning films are inexistent. This is the first time in my life wherein I never saw any Oscar nominated film in the theater. Film festivals? Forget it! (My best friend and fellow movie buff just sent me a message that the Spanish Film Festival in ongoing up to October 14 in Greenbelt. I wanted to scream, "Ibalik nyo ako sa Pilipinas!")

Movies cost $4.50 on matinees and $7 on prime-time. The theater is very small and could sit only around a hundred people. The comfort rooms (at least the girls CR) are another revelation. The doors are kindda wrong. You go inside a cubicle and people could see you from the outside because both sides are not secure. The doors are smaller than the area they are supposed to cover. I wonder who designed those doors? Some pervert perhaps? Or some idiot?

But there are things I like in the island. The sight of the beach along the Beach Road is wonderful. Clear blue waters with the calm sky as a backdrop, I experience a zen-like peace when I drive to the office. When the flame trees were in bloom, the bright red-orange colors of its flowers, is also a sight which will forever reside in my memory.

I leave my bag inside my car and it would still be there when I return. An officemate leaves her car doors open and nothing happens to the car. I don't have to open my bag for inspection when I enter a store, or a bank or any office for that matter. Banks here don't even have security guards.

I don't have to hurry everytime because I don't have to allot a certain time for traffic. Everything here in near. Even if you reside from the farthest side of the island, it would still be a breeze to travel from one end to the other end.

Seven months of dealing with the Chamorros, I learned that one should exert an effort to reach their level of thinking. It would require patience to explain transactions to them. And since, patience was never one of my virtues, I am forced to stretch it.

Their lives beat on a rhythm different from mine. I adjust because this island will be my home for the next few months. I study them and watch in fascination how they go about their daily lives. How they deal with the mundane things. I try to see not the differences but the things they have in common with me. I share their humanity and since I am just a visitor in their island, I learn what I can. I've always been interested in other people's culture and I hope that in my dealings with them, they would also see my humanity and in that brief exchange, may we both be enriched by the experience.

Panalangin Kay Sta. Lea

2006-10-01T21:58:00.000-07:00

Naisulat ko ang tulang ito noong September 13, 2006. 5 days after watching that strip show in Chicago-2 club. Ang inspiration ko ay iyong isang customer na mukhang construction worker pero parang ang dami-dami nyang perang binibigay dun sa isang stripper. Napaka-galante nya. Si Lea naman ay pangalan ng isang "waitress" na kaibigan ng isang kakilala. She figured out in an accident a few months ago and her spinal cord was damaged. Ang prognosis, baka hindi na sya makalakad pang muli. 18 lang daw sya pero dito sa Saipan maraming menor-de-edad na "waitress" at puro dinaya lang ang edad sa passport. Ayon sa mga balita, nasa isang ospital sa Maynila si Lea at umaabot ng P60T ang bill nya bawat araw. Nung narinig ko ang balita, 2 weeks na sya sa ospital.

Tanggapin mo nawa ang alay ng iyong alipin
Para sa iyong hubad na katawan
Iiipit ko ang nakarolyong dolyar sa pagitan ng iyong mga hita
At basbasan mo nawa ako ng kahit konting himas
Para man lang maibsan ang pangungulila at lungkot sa islang ito
Santa Lea, malugod akong lumalapit sa paanan mo
Buong puso kong ibinibigay ang katas ng aking pawis at dugo
Alam kong sa iyong mga kamay at mga halakhak
Maaabot ko ang langit
Sa limang segundong halik sa pagitan ng iyong mga dibdib
Mabubura ang pagod
Makakalimutan ko ang lungkot
Mairaraos ko ang aking libog
Bukas, magkakaroon ulit ako ng lakas
Para magbungkal ng lupa
At magbuhat ng semento
Sa ilalim ng nakasusunog at mala-impyernong init ng araw dito sa Saipan
Amen.

Strip Club - Saipan Style

2006-09-29T03:08:00.000-07:00

Sign Board in one of the Strip Clubs along Beach Road

Strip shows are called Exotic Shows. Strippers are called Exotic Dancers.

I've always passed by Chicago-2. It never really caught my attention before. It's located in the Garapan area and perfectly sandwiched between a coffee shop and a store selling surfing gears and stuff.

I used to walk around the area. I remember one Sunday afternoon, when I was so bored to my bones. I went inside the coffee shop inspecting the pastries and the bread. Nothing looked good. I checked-out the displays in the surf store. I tried the flip-flops but nothing compared to the comforts of my favorite pair of Havaianas.

It was a Friday. Someone was celebrating his birthday and most of the people from my office came for dinner. At dinner we discussed about strippers. I told them that when I was in Bangkok, we went to this show in Patpong where girls performed various acts which to me now, seemed like a circus or a magic show.

One officemate suggested that we go and watch a strip show. I've never been to one here and so, I said, "OK. It's for educational purposes."

Four of us went. I was the only Pinoy in the group. 2 guys, Mildred and I. Mildred is one of the girls in my office who's really nice to me. She's never been to a strip club before and both of us were quite curious what goes on inside a strip club.

So, we went to this Chicago-2 Club in Garapan. At around 11pm, there were quite a handful of customers enjoying themselves with the show. The place was just small, about the size of a regular restaurant. There was a bar and a stage where about 5 naked girls were dancing. Others were entertaining the customers. Around the stage were stools, where the guys sit and do their thing.

We didn't sit at the stools. We took the sofa instead. I got the shock of my life when I saw what was happening. The girls were allowing the men to touch them. One of my officemates got dollar bills from his wallet and started to call one of the girls on stage by waving the dollar. The girl came to him and sat on his lap. I didn't notice where his hands went, but he was kissing the girl's breast. The girl got the dollar from him and went back to the stage. The men were boisterous. The girls went to their customers walking around naked and letting the men, touch, grope, kiss and fondle them. Just for a dollar!

My other officemate called another girl. This time the girl came to him and did a lap dance. He inserted the dollar bill inside the girl's vagina and with a kind of hollow laughter the girl said "Thank you."

I didn't know what I felt exactly at that point. I was looking at this girl dancing on the stage with nothing but a belt as her costume. She looked like Scarlet Johansson in Match Point. She was smiling and I wonder if she was on drugs. Another girl went to the pole and hung there upside down like a monkey. One did a split without any underwear on.

I was feeling nervous. My hands were clammy. I kept saying, "Oh my god!" like an idiot. I wanted to cry for those girls. I wanted to murder those men right there and then. Those dancers were Filipinas. Those naked girls were my kababayans and I was watching them with the Chamorros beside me. I felt so degraded. I wanted to get a blanket and cover their nakedness. They were young, barely out of their teens. The girl who went near us had breasts no bigger than a plum. I thought she was just around 16 or younger.

My officemate was saying, "Relax! It's for educational purposes, right?" How could I relax? It was like staring at my own nakedness. Then he said, "You know what? It would take $200 to have sex with those girls." And there are rooms upstairs where one could let out the heat so to speak.

When we came out, I let out a scream. My hands were cold and I wanted to cry but I bit my lips because I don't want the Chamorros to see my reaction. I didn't want them to think that I was a baby.

When I went home, I wasn't able to sleep. I wrote about my experience and I texted my fellow contract worker in the bank. I was so disappointed with his replies. He said that those girls were making more money than I was. That he adores them and that some of his "fwends" have the same job. That those girls chose that job and I should not feel pity for them. I thought that he lacked compassion for his fellowmen.

I was in bed but sleep never came. I kept thinking what made those girls choose that job? What circumstances of fate led them to that? How could they do that job? Being naked and being touched by strangers every night, what do they feel? When they dance, what do they think about? Do they create "movies in their minds" too, like Gigi in Miss Saigon? What do they dream about?

While attending Mass on a Sunday after the Chicago-2 experience, I felt weird inside the church. I was looking at people trying to decipher who looked like a stripper. One can never know unless one looks at their faces intently. Actually, they looked pretty on stage, maybe because of the spotlight. But when they go down and if you look at them closer, they look older. They look wasted. One even had a badly fitted dentures.

The scenes I saw kept repeating in my mind. Two events actually caught my attention. The first one was, this guy who looked like a construction worker (He was just wearing shorts and a faded T-shirt. He was wearing rubber slippers too.). He was calling one of the girls and he had a lot of dollar bills. One girl was actually concentrating on him. She never left his side. They were talking and the guy's hands was all over her body. I kept thinking, who was actually fooling whom? The guy maybe was just an ordinary worker who earns $3.05 an hour, drilling the road under hot Saipan sun and carrying heavy equipment. While the girl, was taking all his money, just for the priviledge of touching her private parts. She was actually earning more than he does.

The other scene was a naked girl sitting on one guy's lap. She was bent over and the guy was touching her breasts. Then, 4 guys were milling around her and were touching her too. I saw her eyes and I felt that she was pleading for help. The guys were actually taking advantage of her already because only one of them was paying. The others were groping for free. She was trying her best to protect her body but she can't do anything. She didn't want to displease her customers. She was just laughing and trying to ward off 10 sweaty and dirty hands.

I shared my experience with some accountant friends and one of them told me that she went to a strip club too. She went to Club Jama. It was nasty she said. It was the same thing. She felt the same too. Embarrassment. Pity. Wonder. Gratitude to circumstances that gave her a fate better than those girls.

Strip clubs are common here in Saipan. Underaged Pinays who came here under a different name (a common practice is to get an older person's birth certificate and assume her identity). They are called exotic dancers. The clubs even advertise. Club Jama is in Saipan Tribune almost everyday. A strip club called Moonite has a picture of its dancers posted outside. Club 820 is a Korean restaurant by day and a strip club by night. It even has a new branch along Beach Road. Club Happiness in Paseo de Marianas caters to Japanese tourists. There's also Club Macau just across it. I can't understand the poster on its doors because it's written in Japanese. The only familiar character is $25. Maybe that's the admission price.

The experience kept me insomniac for 2 nights. When I went back to the office on Monday, the emotions just poured out of me. I told Tita Lee (another Pinay working for the bank but is an American citizen now) about it and I cried. I felt so awful. I felt angry. I felt so much compassion for my fellow Pinays. I would never wish that kind of job even to my worst enemy.

I thought of Gabriela -an NGO that promotes the welfare of women. I thought of Abanse-Pinay. I thought of Rina Jimenez-David. I thought of Marra Lanot. I thought of Joy Barrios. I thought of Atty. Katrina Legarda. I thought of all the feminists who work to make society be aware that women are not commodities. My respect for them grew a hundredfold. Deep in my heart, I wished that more women continue to dedicate their lives to fight for better and equal society.

I am posting a poem by my favorite poet - Pablo Neruda. I wish I could write poetry as beautifully as he does. I want to dedicate this poem to all the Pinays here in Saipan who work at those Strip Clubs.

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks

All those men were there inside
when she came totally naked.
They had been drinking; they began to spit
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing
She was a mermaid who had lost her way
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh
Obscentities drowned her golden breasts
Not knowing tears sh did not weep
Not knowing clothes she did not have clothes
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor
She did not speak because she had no speech
Her eyes were the color of distant love
twin arms were made of white topaz
Herlips moved, silent, in a coral light
and suddenly she went out by that door
Entering the river she was cleaned
shining like a white stone in the rain
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Kumustahan sa Asia Pacific Concert in Saipan

2006-09-28T04:29:00.000-07:00

Linggo. September 24, 2006. Excited kami nina Cathy at Cecille. Manonood kami ng concert ng APO Hiking Society, Nanette Inventor at Rachel Alejandro. Gaganapin ang concert sa Hopwood Junior High dito sa Saipan.

My ticket was worth $10 (P500). Last month ko pa ito binalak bilhin. First time ko to watch a concert here in Saipan.

The show started at around 7pm. Medyo may ambon ng konti kaya madaming nakapayong. Nakakatuwa kasi parang baratillo show lang sa probinsya ang dating. Isang maliit at payak na stage sa isang school, walang back-up dancer at walang band.

Si Dona Buding ang nag start ng show. As usual, classic si Nanette Inventor. Buhay OFW ang kwento nya. Mga experiences ng isang probinsyana na nangarap mag Japan (hindi pumasa sa audition kasi ibang "cultural dancer" ang hanap ng recruiter), tapos nag-apply bilang DH sa Hongkong (napeke naman so hanggang airport lang sya), naging DH sa Singapore at napadpad sa Saipan bilang cook at sewer. She presented the story in a funny way pero yung comedy nya parang sa Comedy Central. Nakakatawa pero may kurot sa puso. Isang sewer na 25 hours nagtatrabaho tapos nakatira sa barracks at ang katabi sa isang single bed ay isang Pakistani na hindi mahilig maligo. Hay, ang buhay OFW nga naman. Kumita lang ng dollar, kahit ano susuungin at titiisin.

Si Rachel Alejandro, sexy pa rin. Magaling sumayaw kaya lang ang weird tingnan ng isang performer na bigay todo pero walang back-up dancer sa stage. Para tuloy syang kawawa. Of course, kinanta nya yung favorite ni Cecille na "Nakapagtataka."

Syempre the stars of the show was the trio of Jim, Buboy and Danny, otherwise known as the Apo Hiking Society. They sang their classic songs like Ewan, Awit ng Barkada, Paano and many more. As usual ang galing ng mga antics ng APO. The most applauded was the modern version of the classic pinoy folk songs, like Felimon, Waray-waray, Magtanim ay di Biro etc.

I was ecstatic and giddy. I felt like I was back in the Philippines. I was listening to the songs of my childhood. Nanette sang classic Imelda Papin, Claire dela Fuente Songs. The songs played on the radio when I was young. It's funny but I was singing along. I knew all the lyrics by heart. Cecille was humming along because she wasn't that familiar with some of the songs. Cathy, who is much younger than us, enjoyed the songs but didn't know the lyrics very well. Singing along with the APO was like a revelation of how music seeps into one's subconscious. I listened to those songs when I was younger and I never exerted an effort to memorize them, but the lyrics came pouring in like rain.

The last song was "Ako ay Pilipino." I remember that song very well. It was our graduation song in grade school. It's an original Kuh Ledesma song. It was very touching hearing that song again. It just makes me feel, that yes, we Pinoys are really wonderful race except that we seem not to know it. It seems like we have so much potential for greatness but we always make the wrong choices when it comes to politics and many other things.

Its just so "jologs" that people didn't seem to know what to do in a concert. They just stood there (well the people near us) and never reacted. They didn't sway to the music. They didn't sing along and they just watched! Sabi nga ni Cecille, "Mukhang dinala nila ang problema nila dito sa concert."

After the show, we sat down at the $30 section. We were so tired standing for more than 2 hours. People were milling around the stage trying to get Nanette and Rachel's autograph. They bought CDs. I wanted to buy an APO CD (I was willing to shell out $15 for it) but they didn't have any. We were really feeling jologs that time, so we took pictures too. Cecille got Rachel's autograph and posed for pictures with her. Buhay OFW. Sino ang mag-aakala na gagawin ko ito. My friends back home would howl in laughter when they read this.

Dito Po Sa Saipan

2006-09-28T04:04:00.000-07:00

"Doon po sa amin
Sa bayan ng San Roque
May nagkatuwaang
Apat na pulubi
Sumayaw ang pilay
Kumanta ang pipi
Nanood ang bulag
Nakinig ang bingi."
- from a Filipino Folk Song-

Dito sa Saipan, madaming kakaiba. Bukod sa mga itsura ng mga tao at ugali nila, heto pa ang ibang mga bagay-bagay na kakaiba dito sa isla. Nung makita namin ng mga kaibigan ko ang sign sa Marpi pool, hindi namin napigilan ang matawa ng malakas. Halos maglupasay kami sa katatawa kasi ang kulit-kulit ng sign. Tapos yung Bing,Beng,Bang na pangalan ng restaurant. Naaliw kami ng sobra. Kapag nalulungkot ako at sobrang homesick, tinitingnan ko ang mga pictures na ito. I find them really funny. Dito lang sa Saipan meron nito.

"Blood Stains" on the Pavement

Madami kang makikitang "blood stains" sa mga daraanan mo dito. Sa sidewalk, madami kang mapapansin na "Dugo" Pero huwag kang matakot. Hindi dugo yan. Walang lasenggong nag-away at nagsaksakan kagabi. Galing yan sa mga bibig ng mga typical na Chamorro. Ano yan? Hulaan mo!

Elephant Market

Ano kaya ang binebenta nila sa tindahang ito? Nagbebenta kaya sila ng elepante? Mala-elepante kaya ang tindera? O kasing laki ng elepante ang mga tinitinda nila? Kung nagbebenta sila ng elepante, magkano naman kaya ang isa? May baby elephant kaya? Hmmmm........makapag window shop nga..........Arrrggghhhh!!!! Natapakan ako ng elepante!!!!!!!!!

Mga nakatutuwang pangalan ng tindahan dito sa Saipan

HAPPY MARKET - This created a bit of confusion for me. Are the owners trying to describe the store per se? Or are they describing the stuff they are selling? Is the market really happy? Or is this the place where you could buy "Happiness?"

NEW HAPPY MARKET - If this is the "New" happy market, where is the "Old" happy market? O di ba? Nalungkot na ba kaya nagpalit ng pangalan? Subsidiary kaya sya ng Happy Market?

NEW DOLPHIN WHOLESALE - Bawal magbenta ng dolphin di ba? Endangered specie yun. Ano naman kaya ang gagawin mo sa dolphin na binili mo sa tindahang ito? And take note, wholesale ang bentahan. Bawal ang tingi o retail.

Ang Sign sa Marpi Pool

Hindi rin masyadong makulit ang sign na ito di ba? Pag nagpumilit ka pa namang pumasok sa pool kapag walang lifeguard, aba eh, ewan ko na lang. Sinabi na nga na "All other times the pool is closed to swimmers. No lifeguard on duty when the pool is closed."

Ang pinaka-creative na pangalan para sa isang restaurant: BING, BENG, BANG

Ano kaya ang specialty dun sa restaurant na yun. Nasa may Garapan area ito. Tanghaling tapat nga nung kinuhanan ko ng picture ito eh. Ang tyaga ko rin ano? Ganito yata talaga kapag super bored at walang magawa. he!he!he!

Buhay Saipan

2006-09-27T04:30:00.000-07:00

Probinsya!!!.

Yan ang una kong impression sa Saipan. Dumating ako dito nung February 8, 2006. First time OFW. Natanggap ako bilang Internal Auditor ng isang bangko dito sa Saipan. Nagsawa na ako sa pulitika sa dati kong kompanya kaya tinanggap ko ang bagong trabahong ito. Naghahanap din siguro ako ng adventure at bagong experiences kaya hindi na ako masyadong nagpatumpik-tumpik pa ng dumating ang oportunidad na ito.

Hindi ko hinanap ang trabahong ito. Kusang dumating sa akin. Hindi ako naghirap para makuha ito. Siguro para sa akin talaga. Siguro binigyan ako ng buhay ng pagkakataon para malasap ulit ang saya, lungkot, takot at kawalan ng kontrol minsan sa mga pangyayari sa buhay.

Ang Saipan ay parang Pangasinan o Laguna. Magkakakilala ang mga tao sa islang ito. Dalawang oras lang at pwede mo nang maikot ang buong isla. Pero kung ako ang magmamaneho, siguro tatlong oras aabutin. (Sumusunod kasi ako sa speed limit eh.)

Walang masyadong matataas na building dito sa Saipan. Mataas na sigurong maituturing ang Saipan Grand Hotel, Hafa Adai, Hyatt at Hotel Nikko. Malakas daw kasi ang bagyo dito (naiisip kong parang Batanes) kaya hindi advisable ang mataas na buildings. Purong semento dapat ang gagamitin mo kapag nagpatayo ka ng bahay o anumang structure dahil kung hindi, hindi tatagal sa bagyo. Nasa gitna kasi ng Pacific Ocean ang Saipan at walang bundok or anumang natural structure na pwedeng maging shield kung may bagyo.

Wala ding traffic dito sa Saipan. Hindi katulad sa EDSA kapag rush hour. Madali lang mag-drive dito. Para sa isang duwag na katulad ko, I consider learning how to drive one of the major accomplishments I have of Saipan.

Mababait naman halos lahat ng driver. Sumusunod sa batas trapiko (na patterned after the US) dahil ang mahal ng bayad sa traffic violations. Natikitan na nga ako ng pulis dahil ang isa sa mga pasahero ko ay hindi naka seatbelt. Ayun, $50 ang bayad.

Nung bago ako nagdesisyon na tanggapin ang trabaho, isa sa mga naisulat kong benefits ay ang "to improve and practice my english." Juice ko day, puro Pinoy pala ang matatagpuan ko dito sa Saipan. Ni hindi nga ako required na magsalita ng English daily. Makakaraos ako sa isang araw na hindi man lang nagsasalita ng English. At iba ang grammar dito. Dahil siguro ang mga Pinoy dito, karamihan ay blue-collar workers, yung English medyo Erap style. Pati mga DJ sa radio, naku, dudugo ang tenga ng English teacher ko kapag narinig kung paano mag pronounce ng words ang mga DJ dito. Example, ang bandang The Dawn ay nagiging The Down. At ang greeting on a Friday night is "Happy Weekends po sa inyong lahat." Ay, mali! Nakakatawa. Nakakatuwa. Nakakainis. Kaya kapag kausap ko ang boss namin na Amerikano, ay, medyo naghahagilap ako ng tama at angkop na terms. Minsan nga naiisip ko, nag deteriorate na yata ang aking English speaking ability.

Walang showbiz dito sa Saipan. The closest thing they could have of showbizness is the radio. May popular na pinoy station dito. Tagalog ang salita. OPM ang tugtog. OPM na may April Boy Regino at Imelda Papin. (Jologs na maituturing pero kapag OFW ka, songs could be your link to home). Uso ang request and dedication format. Kaya ang mga DJ feeling artista. Showbiz ang dating.

Uso din ang tsismis dito. Naisip ko na dahil ang liit ng isla at walang masyadong mapagkaabalahan ang mga tao, sila-sila na lang ang nag-uusap tungkol sa kani-kanilang mga kapitbahay at kakilala. Isang usual na pangyayari or set-up sa mga probinsya. Ang pinakamalaking usapan dito ay tungkol sa mga relasyon. Mga relasyong alternatibo. May mga asawa sa Pilipinas pero may mga asawa o girlfriends dito sa Saipan. Minsan may nakausap ako na matagal na dito sa Saipan. 8 years na sya dito at nagtrabaho sya bilang HR manager sa isang construction company. Ang dami-dami nyang kwento. Nakakalungkot. Nakakagulat. Pero sa isang banda, naiintindihan ko dahil naramdaman ko kung gaano katindi ang lungkot dito sa isla. Sa isang taong sanay mawalay sa pamilya at nakakadama pa rin ng kalungkutan, alam ko kung gaano kalalim ang lungkot ng pag-iisa.

Commercial cleaner, waitress, cook, katulong, accountant, karpintero, mason, utility persons, hotel staff, prostitutes, beautician. Yan ang mga usual na trabaho ng mga Pinoy dito sa Saipan. Sa bansang katulad natin na P250/day ang minimum wage, ang $3.05/hr na minimum wage dito sa Saipan ay isa nang napakalaking halaga para sa kanila. Minsan, nagsimba ako, ang pari Pinoy din. Minsan naman, nagkayayaan kami ng mga kaopisina ko na pumunta sa isang strip bar, ang mga dancer na hubo't hubad ay mga Pilipina. Naisip ko, ang mga Pinoy nga naman. Extremes. Iba-iba ang mukha. Iba-iba ang kapalaran, pero pare-pareho. Ang pari at ang dancer sa club ay parehong "bridges to heaven." Iyong isa, sa susunod na buhay samantala iyong isa dito sa pangkasalukuyang buhay.

Chamorro ang tawag sa mga natives ng Saipan. Matataba sila (dahil siguro mahilig silang kumain ng barbeque at hindi masyadong nag-e-exercise), bilugan, maitim at karamihan pula ang ngipin dahil sa nganga. Weird nga dito, kasi pati teenagers nganga ang nginunguya. Naisip ko tuloy ang mga teenagers sa Pilipinas, nungka na ngumuya ng nganga. Lolo at lola lang ang nagnganganga sa atin di ba? Pero dito sabi nga ni Nanette Inventor, payat sya kapag natabi sya sa mga Chamorita. Naku, naisip ko, siguro malnourished ang tingin nila sa akin. Mababait naman sila. Pareho din ang kultura dahil sinakop din sila ng Espanya. Mga Katoliko pero hindi masyadong uso ang kasal dito. Pwedeng magsama kahit hindi kasal at iyon ay normal lang. (Pag sa Pilipinas, naku eskandalo ito). Dahil nga US territory sila, ang mga batas ay US din. Unique lang sa kanila yung immigration policies kaya ang mga Pinoy type dito sa Saipan. Pag nagkaanak ka dito, Agila agad ang passport (read: US citizen). Eh, syempre tayong mga Pinoy, "litlle brown americans" so, Saipan is the closest one could get to US soil.

7 months na ako dito sa Saipan. 1 year ang contract ko. Ang dami kong natutuhan. Maraming nakakalungkot na aral lalo na tungkol sa pakikipag-kaibigan. Marami din namang masaya lalo na tungkol sa mga bagay na hindi ko kayang gawin dati pero ngayon kaya ko nang gawin. 5 months na lang, tapos na ang contract ko. Ang isang taon na ito ay isang episode ng buhay na hindi ko makakalimutan. Sana matapos ito na walang aberya at sana matapos ito na patuloy pa rin akong naniniwala na kahit iba-iba ang naging karanasan ko sa pakikitungo sa kapwa Pinoy, the best pa rin ang Pinoy. Mabait. Mapagmahal sa pamilya. Hospitable. Matalino. Masayahin at higit sa lahat, magaling kumanta.

Homesick At 2a.m.

2006-09-26T01:38:00.000-07:00

It's 2a.m. I have woken up again in the middle of the night. It's raining outside and the endless patter provides a melancholic music to my sadness.

I reach out for the other side of my bed, like an instinct, expecting to find a loved-one beside me. My arms land not on a warm body, but on the cold softness of a pillow. It provides me with silent companionship and I thank it for its generosity.

I stare at the ceiling. I close my eyes, wishing for sleep to come. Wishing for dreams to bring me back home in my bed in Manila. Nothing happens. I lose the staring match.

I reach for my phone and send messages to my best friend back home. It's midnight there. I realize that she's probably asleep and another text message in the middle of the night would be answered back tomorrow at 10a.m. when she wakes up. My loneliness cannot wait that long.

I try to connect with another lonely soul. A fellow OFW who has been a constant lunch date for months but who probably has found another shelter in the arms of yet another stranger. He replies in gibberish. I feel the futility of my effort and choose to just go back to sleep.

But, like Macbeth, sleep escapes me. My mind is in overdrive, thinking of the decision that brought me here in Saipan. Alone and lonely at 2a.m. on a rainy Saturday night, I start blaming the weather for this crippling melancholy.

"It's probably the weather."

My mind going cynical, "Yeah, right."

The rationalization fails. I don't feel any better. The questions still pour.

"Why?"

Yes, why indeed? Why did I leave the comforts of home. My friends (my ever loyal friends), my job, my family, the people I love. Why did I venture out into this island and left everything familiar. Was is just the money? Or was it the adventure?

Six months in Saipan and I've seen the best and worst in people. Fellow Filipinos who have shown me kindness, who have welcomed me in their homes and treated me like a long lost relative. I am touched by their hospitality. Yes, in a strange land, where I have no one but myself, there are strangers who still have not lost their basic human kindness. It makes me believe that, yes, there is still hope in humanity.

But, I also had encountered the other side of the coin. The wily, scheming foxes who think of nothing other than their own interests. They prey on unsuspecting individuals. I realize, it's a jungle out here. What makes it more difficult is, I do not know, who is the predator, who's ready to attack me anytime.

And so, I learned to be wiser. I trust, but I leave the best part to myself. It's trusting but not really trusting. It's odd, but it's the only way to survive.

Living in a foreign land makes me look deeper inside myself. I could be anything or anyone in a society that has rules different from my own. A society that allows certain relationships not typical in my own. But, I don't judge. I am a citizen of the world and I respect the peculiar set-up. I remember my favorite professor in college. "It's the human condition." Yes, indeed.

I meet people who probably are shy back home, but are now holding important positions in organizations. A picture-perfect family man turns out to be a pathological womanizer. An aloof, introspective person, turns out to be the kindest friend I would have. Some loses focus. Some maintains it. Some refocuses and finds their passions.

The various groups that discuss the social cost of migration crosses my mind. Now, being an OFW, I am one of those who keep the economy of my poor country afloat while enduring the deep and undefined loneliness of foreign shores. I think of the others who like me endure the homesickness while they work in assembly lines, in offices, in hospitals and yes, maybe even in sex dens. I am sure the experience remains the same. We are like orphans, congregating and seeking the warthm of home.

It's probably 3 am. The rains have stopped. The question still nags in my head. WHY?

I refuse to wallow in soap-opera perspective. I don't like tear-jerkers.

I left the comforts of home for various reasons. I left because my soul needed change. My soul was dying of the lack of newness. I was doing the same things for years and the regularity has dulled the meaning of everything. I have outgrown my nest and like a bird poised in flight, I was ready to fly.

I was ready to venture out into the unknown world. The world outside my home. I know that I have to fend for myself here. I rely on my instincts to survive. I cannot be the cry-baby anymore. I have grown-up and I have to face the challenges head-on. I will learn lessons - painful ones, happy ones. I will continue to learn about myself. Faced with different situations, I will look deep into my character and choose what will make me a better person.

Yes, more than the prospect of earning the mighty dollar, it was the need to experience the zest of life once again. Like the hobbits who ventured out from the shire, I know I will eventually go back home, richer with experience. A more defined person and a better individual.

The experience of waking up at 2a.m. for the nth time, is just part of the journey that awaits. I brace myself for the ride and what Saipan has to offer me.