This may, in the light of current events, matter little. But the story of the “yaya meals” in exclusive Balesin Resort has gotten more than a few people all riled up.
The reply of Balesin management may have only added fuel to the fire, but the head honchos do have a point when they said the so-called “yaya meal,” or meal for nannies, was conceived only upon the request of their member-guests. The guests, they said in a statement, are perfectly free to order any of the items on the menu for their yayas, drivers, aides or other members of their party. After all, everything they serve, including the budget meals, are prepared by their kitchen staff. It seems that the meals for the help were offered only on the request of some members who wanted to cut costs.
This is puzzling because, if you can afford a membership in the club, or know someone to invite you to stay there, I presume you can very well afford to pay for a meal or two, or a few, for people who are in your party to serve your needs. What’s a few hundred or thousand pesos for your extra convenience?
But it seems the rich or aspiring rich (or trying to seem rich) in this country resent having to shell out cash for the help, who they perhaps feel don’t deserve to literally “sit at the table” with them, enjoying the same food they are served, luxuriating in the same pools, getting massages at the spa, etc.
And so the evolution of the “yaya meal,” which is not really all that exclusive to Balesin, even if it was first exposed online by former beauty queen Maggie Wilson-Consunji, who said she was “shocked” when Balesin wait staff said her son’s nanny could have the rice-and-adobo combo reserved for “less deserving” guests.
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The “yaya meal,” alas, has existed for almost as long as upper- and middle-class families have had nannies or caregivers or house help. But sometimes, it’s not even the household staff who get, uh, shafted.
A photographer I know walked out of a photo shoot in the home of an upper-crust mogul when he, together with other staff at the shoot, were ushered into the kitchen come lunchtime and served a meal of daing na bangus and a scoop of rice. Obviously, the homeowners were enjoying a far more generous and sumptuous repast, one they deemed unworthy of the staff.
A report in this newspaper tells of a press conference held at the opening of a hotel in the Ortigas area. As lunchtime approached, the members of the press were ushered out of the ballroom and into a function room where they were asked to partake of a simple buffet. This would not have been so bad if, on the way out, the media people had not caught a glimpse of the glitzy spread for the rest of the guests.
As a media professional, I resolved, upon reading the report (by a reliable reporter), never to patronize that particular hotel, much less to write about it. If the hotel so disrespected my profession, then I would make sure never to send any free publicity its way.
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But let’s go back to yayas.
Over the years, my husband and I would frequently catch glimpses of other family groups gathered in restaurants or fast-food joints. Invariably, the nanny would be left to supervise her young wards while the parents and the rest of the party enjoyed their meal. And incredibly, the nanny would not even be given the chance to order her own meal, although at times—and I don’t know if this is worse—she would be “ordered” to eat her ward’s leftovers.
In other homes, I’ve heard, the cook prepares two separate meals for the homeowners and family, and another for the help, presumably of cheaper ingredients and smaller portions. In my own family, my mother sternly reminded me before I decamped the family home to join my husband, that “the help deserve to eat the same food that you do.” Besides I have a hard enough time planning a menu for my family without worrying about what the kasambahay would eat as well.
I’m glad the term “kasambahay”—loosely, home companions—has entered common usage in these parts. It’s not just a matter of political correctness, but also acknowledgement of their true role in the family home. They share the home with us, working to keep it as clean, sanitary, efficient and safe as all of us expect it to be, and I think they should be given all the respect, fair pay, fair treatment and recognition that they deserve.
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So the next time you find yourself in Balesin or eating in an uppity establishment with your kasambahay, remember that if you bring her along with you to make your life easier or more convenient, you should be willing to pay the price for her presence.
And this means ensuring that she is treated in much the same manner as you are, including eating the same kind of food and equally enjoying the same amenities.
The way you treat your yaya or nanny, your secretary, your driver, even the waiter who hovers over your table, says more about you and your upbringing and values than it does about the gulf in your social status.
You may have more money, dress better, or speak in a more posh accent, but your inhumanity speaks much more about the kind of person you are, and the kind of people your children will be.