Househusbands in Gingoog too
I’ve met some of Gingoog City’s prominent women ladies of leisure (whose husbands are into the real estate business and own rice, lanzones, cocoa, coffee and coconut plantations) and working women government executives, dentists, accountants, bankers, midwives and nurses, school teachers, beauty parlor attendants and masahistas, entrepreneurs running along with their husbands businesses, like hardware stores, and car spare parts, and by themselves, a catering business, manning (pardon the pun) carinderias, and selling ukay-ukay garments.
Some of them seem pretty well-established, others content with their earnings from working for employers selling meat products in the public market and private meat stores, working as sales girls, minding tiny sari-sari stores, still others struggling to make both ends meet, like street vendors (selling men’s and children’s socks, fancy jewelry, fruits, ornamental plants, and frying chicken feet and grilling intestines in stalls).
These women use their intelligent minds and manual skills to make the world go round.
The rich make sure their money is spent well, invested in some project, or kept in time deposits. But most work to the bone to ensure food for the kids, or ailing parents.
I’m somewhat osyoso (curious), digging into some of these women’s private lives; perhaps that’s because I’m an inveterate tattler (or journalist?). As I wait for the hairdresser to finish applying Brazilian lotion to my hair, I ask, “What does your husband do?” (I ask the same question of vendors and sales girls, etc.)
Some say their husbands are managers of companies, security guards, drivers, and self-employed guys. But many, I am just surprised, say with a hint of regret, that theirs are jobless, just stay homers “doing nothing,” sitting the whole day with other jobless pares at the corner sari-sari store gulping Tanduay rum. They feel no qualms about the wife working abroad (so she can send dollars home for his sustenance).
Going back to my hairdresser, she first told me her husband “just stays home.” But in the course of our conversation, she related that he is the one doing the marketing and cooking, doing the laundry, taking the children to school, and raising a couple of fighting cocks in the backyard. He makes a little money when his roosters win in cockfights. Connie smiled.
My questioning continued, and I smiled listening to her say her spouse had been doing household work since they got married. “When we have gatherings at home, he does all the preparations – the food, the house décor, the utensils to be used.” And, she added, “Since he is earning, I keep my earnings for my own use.” Lucky Connie.
Connie reminded me of a friend in Manila. Daisy is a top executive of a prime public relations company. Her job, among others, is taking care of media persons, so the press conferences of clients are well attended and publicized in the broadsheets, and sending them abroad for conferences with company presidents.
Her successful career is due to her having a househusband, an architect by training who chose to do the household chore and care for their kids (who attend exclusive schools). And, Daisy adds, he is a chef and a gardener. Sometimes he surprises her with an absolutely delicious dish that he read from the internet.
Did it ever occur to her that people cannot believe that he is not losing his “manhood” by doing what traditionally is women’s work? Daisy smiled.
“My husband and I are happy with our arrangement. I am free to pursue my career. He feels good about it.” Losing his manhood? No, no, Daisy said. You know what that means.
Not so lucky is the assistant of a hairdresser I went to near the public market. Edna works like a dog, so to speak, reporting to work at 8 and leaving after the last customer has left like at 9. Her employer being an engaging raconteur, customers are aplenty in her shop.
Although her employer personally attends to customers’ hairstyling, she has trained Edna to shampoo, trim, rebond, and curl most of the customers’ crowns, and is on her feet the whole day.
She has to sweep the floor, too. At day’s end, she’s dead tired, but pleased with the tip customers give her. She takes two motorized tricycles home, which is in a downtrodden area.
The grade school children are playing in the yard, unkempt and noisy. Her husband is in bed – on the floor – in a state of stupor from downing half a bottle of gin.
Edna cooks supper, feeds the kids (who have lunch at an aunt’s house), puts them to sleep, does the laundry, and walks over to the sari-sari store to buy rice and eggs which she will cook for the next day’s breakfast. She walks the kids to school; a neighbor fetches them after school.
She told me she does not care about her husband (“he’s useless”), but she believes a miracle could happen, manna from heaven would fall and she would be able to send her children to college, then land a job in Saudi. Poor Edna.
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Daisy and Connie are blessed wives whose husbands free them from household work and still remain heads of the house. Husbands don’t have to be like those of Daisy and Connie. But wives feel good when their better haves help around the house, like wash the dishes, sweep the floor, do occasional marketing (some find carrying a basket beneath their dignity) and fry an egg or two. Those are acts of kindness, and small tokens of affection.
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My hubby today brought home from a trip to Manila a big surprise: three maple leaves that lawyer Leovillo “Bill” Agustin (Upsilon ’58) picked up from a yard in Canada and had them neatly framed. At the back of the picture frame, Bill wrote: “My dear Domini. Just a very simple memento as my belated birthday gift. You specially requested me for three Canadian maple leaves when I told you I was going to Vancouver in December 2018.”
Thanks for the thoughtfulness, Bill. I remember Bill telling me that he collects my columns. Imagine a Ten Outstanding Young Men Awardee in 1979 for Law Practice and Legal Aid as a faithful fan.
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Of thoughtful husbands, there’s my brother, Warto (a name concocted by our mother as he was born during World War II). Warto, a lecturer in humanities at Gingoog Institute Christian College, does household chores, giving his wife, the former Vee Geroso, time to paint and cook exquisite dishes. Warto goes to market, sweeps the floor, do gardening, and – paints flowers in my house.
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