Through Philippine eyes: Russia’s Edsa?

Are the sporadic demonstrations that recently took place in Moscow really like our 1986 Edsa? That’s what a friend of mine who migrated to Russia with his wife last year seems to think.

“Digoy,” who works at his employer’s dacha hundreds of miles out of Moscow, had been witnessing, via his tablet computer, the dramatic events in the aftermath of the assassination of President Vladimir Putin’s opponent Boris Nemtsov. Dachas are the traditional second homes for wealthy Russians, located in the exurbs of that vast country, and Digoy considers himself lucky to have landed a job with a member of the Russian elite. He is the family driver and handyman while his wife Maris does the housework for the couple and their daughter. A Russian foreman who maintains the grounds and outdoor sauna occasionally needs his assistance, but Digoy finds ample time to go online for news and regular Skype sessions with his children in Mindanao.

Nemtsov’s assassination on Feb. 28 and the ensuing demonstrations produced an interesting reaction from Digoy. His message to me read: “Mura man kini og ilahang Edsa (This is like their Edsa).” We communicate occasionally by e-mail, but he uses Facebook regularly, as do most in the Filipino diaspora, for less weighty matters like posting photos of him driving his boss’ car and Maris cavorting in the snow.

Our friendship, which dates back two decades, began when we lived on one of Hong Kong’s outlying islands. Digoy worked as a handyman for the British family who had first hired Maris as a nanny, and there were, and still are, a number of Cebuano-speaking Pinoys like me in our community.

Digoy fretted constantly about not being able to earn more money for his three children left behind with his parents, so he would search online for better jobs in Canada, Australia and the United Kingdom. He would ask me to polish his CV and application letters which he sent off to various parts of the world. And he asked for prayers from his colleagues in the El Shaddai movement to which he and Maris belonged.

Though the qualifications listed in his CV as an electrician, plumber and carpenter were quite impressive, luck eluded him. Only by chance one day, when Maris read of a former classmate of hers on Facebook working in that communist country, did Digoy go through the process of applying for a Russian employer. It wasn’t like the procedure followed elsewhere by migrant workers who rely on agencies to find employers who will sign labor contracts and send airline tickets. One has to get to Moscow on one’s own steam and sign up with an outfit there who will match you with a job. The visitor’s visa allows a few months’ stay, so finding the right prospect depends on chance.

Quite a number of Filipinos are already working in Russia—no surprise because intrepid Pinoys have traversed the globe in that longtime quest to escape from poverty. In fact their ubiquity in Hong Kong, working at menial jobs, has prompted some Westerners to call them “Filipino elves.” Unfortunately, the local Chinese often label them disparagingly.

Is Digoy’s droll observation comparing the Russian protest actions with those following Ninoy Aquino’s murder at the then Manila International Airport in 1983 a valid one? Can one compare the politics and population of a superpower with that of a developing country? It may be a stretch, but one which Digoy could not have dreamed of while growing up in Surigao.

The grumbling now going on in Manila over the present regime’s transgressions, where some hint improbably of another Edsa, is totally different from Russia’s. For one, our spirit of People Power petered out much too soon, with our ostensibly democratic political system still unaltered from its original feudal structure. Conversely, the grip of communist Russia’s dictator Vladimir Putin has seen political dissidents eliminated over the past years, and conflicts with neighboring states, and now Ukraine, continuing. As in China, there is unrest, but freedom for the people is a long way off.

Meanwhile, Digoy seems to have lost heart and has just told me he’s thinking of applying for work in New Zealand (where he has a friend) once his Russian contract ends. I’m wishing him much luck.

Isabel T. Escoda is a freelance journalist based in Hong Kong.