Before leaving the Philippines at the age of 22, I had never heard of a country called Djibouti. The first time I knew that such a place actually existed was when I met someone from there while pursuing my PhD degree in the United Kingdom. The university had an orientation event for its international students and as I hobnobbed with the crowd and tried to let as many people know (in my “barong” and all) that I am from the Philippines, there was also this guy who was confidently introducing himself and proudly saying that he is from Djibouti.
After then I knew that Djibouti is a small country in East Africa. It has an area approximately twice the size of our province of Isabela (about 23,000 vis-à-vis our total land area of 300,000 square kilometers). It is bordered by the more famous country of Ethiopia to the West, the now infamous Somalia to the Southeast, the lesser-known Eritrea to the North, and the warm waters of the Gulf of Aden to the East. Now that I am based in Yemen’s capital of Sana’a, Djibouti’s capital, Djibouti (I know…, how novel can a name of a capital get?) is only a 50-minute flight away which was why it was an easy decision for me to fly there and check the country out.
Djibouti is a Francophone country having been colonized by the French for 10 years. It is also a very poor country with a purchasing power parity-adjusted annual per capita Gross Domestic Product of US$1,000, as opposed to the Philippines’ US$3,300. In other words, I wasn’t expecting any Filipino to work, or much less, travel there. I mean, English is not spoken and the salary for the same job is definitely lower in Djibouti. So why would a typical Filipino want to have employment or go on vacation in such a poor place?
While waiting to board the plane, there were the usual Yemenis, Caucasian tourists, and Djiboutians (who I could tell by deduction). Sure enough, I was the sole Filipino, or make that Asian, at the departure lounge. I was one of the first people to embark but just before the flight attendants closed the cabin doors, an Asian guy sat beside me and, more sure than enough, he is Filipino. It was such a coincidence as the plane was an Airbus 310-300! So from among its 200-plus passengers, what was the probability that the only two Filipinos on the same flight got seated together?
The talkative me usually asks the question first but when our Pinoy-dars both registered the other seatmate as Filipino, he immediately asked me if I was also working at the US base. “US base?,” I asked him back. In my mind, it was France which formerly occupied this country and not America. And despite its independence, the French still have a strong military base in the country. So how could there be a US base in Djibouti? But there is and he told me that it has been in operation for a couple of years now. (As to why there is an American military base in Djibouti is not relevant – i.e., strictly confidential).
Also according to my seatmate, “kababayan”, and newfound friend, there are now about 200 Filipinos working in the base in all kinds of jobs and various positions such as cooks, food servers, secretarial and administrative staff, technicians, engineers, nurses, etc. And they are all lucky as they get to go on vacation (with free return tickets) twice or even three times a year; their salary is in US dollars and way higher than how much a Djiboutian (or Filipino) makes while working the same job; and they have everything in the base such as free “imported” chocolates, alcohol (FYI, Djibouti is a Muslim country), as well as 24/7 Internet access.
It was such a surprise to know that there are Filipinos in Djibouti. My American best friend once told me that Filipinos are like fungi – that they grow everywhere. And is he right! Spinning something positive out of something that is supposedly negative, we are fungi not only because we grow everywhere but we also THRIVE wherever we grow! Seriously, it is the Filipinos who keep the US base in Djibouti up and running. Had they not been there, there wouldn’t have been an American military presence in that country to begin with. Yes, the US could hire other nationalities (hardly Americans themselves as they don’t prefer these jobs) but I highly doubt that they can work as hard and perform as well as our hundreds of “kababayan” there.
Speaking of thriving, Filipinos have a good reputation not only inside the base but outside as well. While sightseeing on the streets of the capital, I overheard a couple of locals who recognized me as a Filipino and said in Arabic, “Filipini tamam” (i.e., he’s Filipino and he’s a nice person). I had entered shops looking for souvenirs and the merchants always gave me a very reasonable price just for being Filipino. And as I walked around, some of the other store owners wanted me to check out their merchandise by calling me “pogi” (and there was one who even said “maganda”).
Back at the airport while waiting for my connecting flight to the Comoros, I met two other Filipinos working at the US military base who were on their way to the Philippines for vacation. Like me, they didn’t know anything about this country before. It was funny when they told me they gave up telling their family and friends that they work in Djibouti because, number one, the latter don’t know that it is a country, and number two, the former find it difficult to explain where it exactly is. So they just say that they work in Africa.
Based on CNN’s presence around the world, there are 210 countries, territories, and autonomous regions. I don’t know all of them. But what I do know is that wherever there is a job opportunity like in Djibouti, Filipinos are willing to go there. And once they do, they work their hardest; they establish good relationships with their colleagues and the people around them; and, most importantly, they support their loved ones in the Philippines as best and as long as they can. So whoever thought that Djibouti, no matter how poorer, is a better country to work in than ours?
