Home Alone

‘’On the day my parents left for Italy, I must have been three years old. We were at the airport. They bought my brothers and I toys and told us to play,’’ recalls Wilma Palejon, 16, a senior high school student at the Canossa School in San Pablo, Laguna, of her separation from her migrant-worker parents. "Later on, when we turned around to look for them, they were gone.’’

"My mom told me that she was going to the bank," Reina Villafuerte, also a 16-year-old student at the same school, says of her mother, who works as a domestic helper in Italy. "The next day, I asked my sister how come mommy did not come home. She told me that my mom had left to work abroad."

Wilma’s and Reina’s parents may or may not have left in exactly the way their children recall today, but their departure–sudden and difficult to explain–is deeply etched in their memories.

Children growing up without their parents is a social cost that ought to be weighed against the financial rewards that Filipino migrant workers–and the Philippine government–get from the country’s decades-long policy of labor exports.

More than 800,000 Filipinos leave the country each year to work in countries from the Middle East to Asia or work aboard ships, staying away for years or even decades. There are some seven million overseas Filipino workers, working as maids, factory workers, babysitters, nurses, construction workers.

Here at home, teachers and guidance counsellors say that over the years, they have had to develop ways of meeting the needs of youngsters who, because of overseas work, are growing up in divided families or without immediate kin.

"Twenty-five percent of the high school population here (900 students) at Canossa School have either a parent or both parents working abroad," explains Ching Pulutan, coordinator of human resource and guidance counsellor at the school.

Some develop behavioral problems due to the lack of family support networks, and the physical and emotional distance from their parents. Some youngsters adapt over the years to their parents’ absence. But when problems occur, they tend to emerge when they are in their early teens.

Before that age, Ching explains that children still enjoy the pasalubong and padala they get from parents abroad. As they grow older, they look for their parents’ affection, guidance and presence.

"We would not have been able to study in private schools or have as much money to spend if our parents were not working abroad," Reina concedes. "But the only advantage of their absence is the material things we get."

Reina and her schoolmates have been through workshops under a program called "Anak", which provides a support group for overseas workers’ children. "Anak" is one of several program for families affected by the migration phenomenon, run by the Ugnayan at Tulong para sa Maralitang Pamilya Foundation (UGAT), an apostolate for grassroots families.

Based at the Ateneo de Manila University in Quezon City, UGAT also has outreach programs for families of overseas workers and those thinking about going abroad ("Panatag"), those temporarily separated from their spouses because of overseas work ("Kaisa"), and for families reunited after long-term separation ("Kapiling Muli").

Guidance, love, concern and care are what the kids of overseas workers say they miss the most.

"No one is there to guide us,’’ admits Christine Pulgar, a student who was two months old when her father left to work abroad and was barely one when her mother followed him to Italy.

"It is hard since both of my parents work abroad and I and my three siblings have had to live with my grandmother. Their absence has made me have to bear burdens which they should bear," Christine relates. "Even at a young age, it seems we have to become mature. I feel that I am more mature than most of my peers."

Among the responsibilities children learn early is the management of large amounts of money they receive from their parents, says Carlos Lagaya of UGAT. This affects different people in different ways – some virtually run their households, others become materialistic, constantly writing their parents to ask for material things.

"Ang pinakakulang ay ang affection na hinahanap ko," says Reina, whose father left the Philippines when her mother was pregnant with her. Her mother also left the country when she was three years old. "I always feel so left out and insecure when there are school activities like Parents Day and I have no one to share that day with," she adds.

At this stage in their lives, the teenagers begin to look for a barkada they can belong to. "Some of the boys join fraternities, while the girls look to the sororities. But the need to feel that they belong is the same, whether the child that is left behind is a son or a daughter," says Ching.

The students have also told Ching that they feel rebellious and angry at their parents, but at the same time crave for their care.

Confused and eager for affection, some daughters of overseas workers end up getting pregnant early, and some young men become fathers early, Ching explains.

For instance, Reina says, "My two elder sisters got pregnant early –naligaw sila ng landas. I think that if my parents were here, even just one of them, this would not have happened."

But already, some teenagers say that they are no longer comfortable communicating with their parents. "They call us once in a while but when we talk over the phone, all they ask about is whether we have any financial problems,’’ Reina frets.

Christine’s parents, however, call regularly. "When my parents are not too busy they call once a week, but if they have a lot of work then they call once every two weeks," she says.

Sherry Banatla says she sends text messages to her mother, a domestic worker in Macau. "This is why I always use up a lot of cellphone cards," she quips.

Wilma is also into sending text messages, but to her brother–and not to her parents. "My parents have been away for so long. I don’t know how to deal with them because I have never lived with them," she explains.

Some youngsters say they wish their parents knew how to use the Internet and e-mail, so they could keep in closer touch.

Knowing first-hand the price that distance from their parents brings, the kids at Canossa have mixed views when asked if they themselves would take up overseas work in the future.

"I would also like to work abroad, but I would only do it if I could bring my whole family with me," replies Christine.

"There is no way I would work abroad. I like it here,’’ Sherry says, as Wilma nods in agreement.

Ching concedes, "There is nothing we can do about the overseas workers. Times are hard and the parents only want to give their children a little more in life." But at home, children fare better if they have caring relatives.

"I don’t understand why both my parents have to work abroad. Why can’t one of them come and live here with me? I would prefer to be poor but be part of a complete family," says Reina. "If we have problems then we can work at solving them together. Unlike now, sure I am fortunate to be where I am, but at the same time I have no family to speak of."

The youngsters who have been left under the care of good guardians appear to cope better.

"My grandmother has been good to us. Even when I was still small, she would explain why it was important for my parents to work abroad. I am grateful to them for what they have done," Christine shares. "But maybe that is because I am always in touch with my parents."

But there are those, like Wilma, who will probably never fully understand the parting with their parents, make this vow: "I won’t do it. I will never leave my children. It is too painful, too hard."