Selling to the devil

LISBON – The flight from Manila to Dubai last Saturday on my way to this Portuguese capital was full, with many passengers – judging from their conversations – overseas Filipino workers. 

It was a long goodbye for many of the OFWs; as the plane prepared to take off, they chatted with loved ones on their mobile phones, showing the interior of the plane to those back home and giving a blow-by-blow account of the flight. Many of the devices were on speakerphone so you couldn’t help overhearing the chats. Some phones showed women carrying babies or with young children, telling the kids to say goodbye to dad.

When the plane started pulling out of the airport, a woman told a guy at the other end of the line that their connection would soon be cut off. The guy said, “I love you! Tsup! Tsup!” – the Pinoy sound effect for a loud kiss. The woman quickly replied, “Love you too!” And then, like an afterthought and with less passion – maybe she was distracted by the pre-departure announcement over the PA system – she added, “Tsup tsup.”

And then the plane took off.

Wherever there are OFWs, you see the loneliness often bubbling up through the enthusiasm in having well-paying jobs and seeing new sights in a foreign land. Separation from families seems to be hardest on mothers; they are the ones who eagerly share photos or videos of their children with strangers like me, and readily tell their life stories.

Pope Francis, during his visit to Manila in what now seems like another lifetime on another planet, warned about the steep social costs of the migrant worker phenomenon, especially on family cohesion. 

I know a number of families that have been broken by the long separation, with husband and wife alike finding new partners. Some cases have led to suicides, leaving deep scars on the children who already suffer from growing up without one or both parents.

And yet the OFW phenomenon continues, despite the widely reported risks of abuses and, in the worst cases, the possibility of ending up like Joanna Demafelis or Mary Jane Veloso. 

Poverty and the need to find meaningful employment drive urban migration. It’s the same with the OFW phenomenon. For our workers, the alternatives back home are worth the risks.

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Philippine presidents are aware of the problem and know that the ultimate solution is to create an environment that will reduce if not eliminate the need to find work overseas. But presidents also know that the billions remitted annually by approximately 10 million OFWs account for a considerable chunk of economic growth figures. Which administration can afford to say goodbye to that?

It’s been the same with President Duterte, who has publicly apologized to Kuwait – host to about 250,000 OFWs – for what he described as his harsh words amid public outrage following the discovery of Demafelis’ remains in a freezer at the apartment abandoned by her Syrian and Lebanese employers.

At the height of the bilateral spat, fueled by reports of Filipinos committing suicide in Kuwait due to physical and sexual abuse, Duterte said “I would sell my soul to the devil” so OFWs in the Gulf state could “come home and live comfortably” in the Philippines.

As far as we know, the sale to the devil has not yet taken place. But the two countries have signed an agreement that aims to protect OFWs in Kuwait from abusive employers.

Despite Demafelis’ tragedy, there has been no major exodus of OFWs from Kuwait. About 60 percent of the workers are household helpers and many of them, according to the main migrant workers’ organization, were in fact worried about losing their jobs at the height of the diplomatic row.

If Duterte wants them to come home, he will need to entice them – and OFWs in other countries, for that matter – with something more than the promise of English teaching jobs in China.

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Job creation calls for investors to provide the employment. For this you need an environment conducive to investments, with a level playing field, efficient regulation, reliable laws and effective enforcement, and as little red tape as possible. 

Duterte is on the right track in enacting the Ease of Doing Business Act of 2018, which complements the Anti-Red Tape Act. His crackdown on the corrupt in his government, although starting to smack of selectiveness, is still generally welcomed by the public.

Whether the new law can actually make doing business easier in this country remains to be seen. Shortly after it was enacted, I went to the Land Transportation Office at the Alabang Town Center in Muntinlupa, where I got my provisional driver’s license two years ago, to see if my license card was finally available.

A woman told me that they needed to take my biometrics before the card could be issued. But didn’t they do that before they gave me the provisional license?

I was assigned a number; I was about 15th in the waiting line. Not sure how long the wait might take, I left because I still had another appointment. This is just a driver’s license. How much harder is it for more complicated transactions with government?

Because of Duterte’s track record, people are hoping he would apply tokhang-like toughness in implementing his priority programs, including making doing business easier so more jobs can be created.

Other presidents in the past have said their long-term goal is to persuade OFWs that they no longer need to leave their own land to find meaningful employment. Who knows, it might finally happen under Duterte. He can sell his soul to the devil if he wants, as long as he can bring the workers home.