My Singaporean odyssey

IN MARCH 1998, I was at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) Terminal 2 for the first time. I had with me my only luggage containing my clothes and other personal belongings, inside was a sewing kit which my grandmother asked me to bring. She said that if my clothes get torn, I will always be able to mend the tear even if I was miles away from home. My skill set was almost zero for the job I was about to take.

I had no knowledge of the place I was to go to - I thought Singapore had snow. But I was unfazed. I was brimming with excitement because I will be out of the country. At the airport, I was in awe of the cavernous ceiling and its modern architecture. I did not mind that my airplane ticket was only given to me when I met up with my agent at the airport and that I still had to fork out Php 3,000.00 for it. About four hours later, peeking from the window of the airplane as it taxied along the runway at half-past 6:00 in the evening, I could see the sunset and the silhouette of the Changi International Airport.

Inside Changi, I was transported to the future. It was a vast expanse of glass, steel and concrete; its interior design sleek and bright. There was a network of conveyor belts and escalators effortlessly moving from the airplanes’ docking gates to the main lobby. Several huge digital screens in various locations prompted arrivals and departures.

The public address system had a clear and pleasant voice emanating from the speakers. There were no hordes of people agog at the arrival area. The airport was business going about in clockwork precision. Just outside, there were no barkers fighting for your attention to rent transportation, passengers may just easily take the next ride from the taxis neatly parked at the loading area. NAIA Terminal 2 suddenly was mediocre in comparison. Coming out of the airport, the roads that greeted me were not only well-paved and good sized, they were also well-lighted and uncongested with the appropriate signages.

Inside the taxi that ferried me to the halfway house my employer provided for me, all I could do was get amazed in silence and concede that my love for the Philippines was not enough not to admit that we were the sick man of South East Asia.

When I arrived at the house, I was shocked to discover that I will be rooming in with three construction workers from mainland China. The condo type apartment had eight tenants with three rooms but with only one toilet and bath. The latrine was so filthy it was dark brown. When I went out to have dinner in that first night, most of the hawker stores had only Chinese menus. I considered myself lucky because I found a McDonald’s store after a couple of days. McDonald’s burgers, although quite ironic, were my go-to food because I was not really fond of spicy dishes

On my first day of work, I was disheartened to learn that the salary I was to receive was only 1,500.00 and not the 2,000.00 Singapore dollars promised to me by my agent in the Philippines. And to my horror, I was asked to surrender my passport to my employer.

Slowly, I felt like a second-class citizen and dawned on me that I was indeed miles and miles away from home. I started to feel homesick and all I could think about was to find a way to leave as soon as possible. But there was the money my parents loaned to pay for my placement fee that I had to pay back. And I no longer have a job to go back to. With a heavy heart, I willed myself to stay put in Singapore, work and fulfill my twoyear contract.

My life in Singapore as an overseas Filipino worker (OFW) was pretty much uninteresting and mind-numbing. I wake up in the morning to get the connecting bus to the train station, alight at the financial district and walk a few meters to where our office was located. I will be