“THE BOOMERANG generation.” That’s what they call the millennials who, after realizing that their paychecks may not keep up with the rent of their big-city apartments, have gone back home to live with Mom and Dad, at least temporarily.
It may run counter to the modern ideal of a young professional making it independently in the big, big world, but sometimes, you just need a breathing spell, a reset button, to relaunch your pursuit of your dreams. And where better to find that comfortable launch pad than at home, where you do not have to eat instant noodles for lunch and dinner and lunch the next day; where your sheets are cleaned before you get to a state of hygiene emergency; where you can lie on your bed without having to think of bills to pay tomorrow?
Except, maybe, if you’re an overseas Filipino worker.
Pinoy boomerangs cannot boomerang back as easily. Millennials or otherwise, they fly out in flocks to foreign lands: Some 6,092 OFWs leave the country daily, according to Ibon Foundation, and according to government data, that totals to about 2.3 million Filipinos scattered all over the globe—but only the lucky ones will be back for noche buena.
For the rest, there will be no breathing spell, no reset button, for a long while. Whether it’s because of restrictive laws, inflexible employers, the need to earn, or a gloomy resignation that there is no future left in their hometowns, our OFWs have relinquished the privilege of being able to find the relief of home when they need it. And, as we know from their confessions in Skype calls and middle-of-the-night text messages, it is they who most direly need that relief.
We know their drill. We know of their loneliness, their backbreaking work, and their unexpressed need for someone to take care of them for once. We know of their double shifts and their struggle to make remittances; of their anxiety of being alone in a street full of strange people; of their regret at having to care for someone else’s child but not their own. We’ve watched too many airings of “Anak” to miss the message.
Every year, as December rolls around, we call them about the packages they have sent to our doorsteps. The refrigerator is bursting with chocolates now, the kids are delighted by their shiny new gadgets, and every aunt and cousin are grateful for the bar of soap or the bottle of lotion that they got from that magical brown box with the Customs tape. We miss you, we say. Wish you could come home sooner.
But it may not be for a while before they can make their way back—not until our personal and national economic landscapes change, not until we can find better opportunities here, not until their rights as workers do not anymore hang on a precarious balance under strange rules in strange lands.
We call for better protection of our OFWs. For all that they have to bear, they certainly deserve better. They should not have to live in fear of abusive employers or of becoming unwitting drug mules or of becoming scapegoats for thefts and murders. They should not have to tolerate the sting of discrimination; they should be fully aware of their rights and know exactly where to go when those rights are violated. They should not have to work an extra day a week just to cover Customs fees.
We also hope for the day when our nurses, domestic workers, teachers and laborers find that their own country is finally treating them better, as they deserve to be treated. We hope they find appropriate jobs and equitable wages without having to leave our shores. We pray they will not be welcomed with airport scams when they finally come back.
In the meantime, we make the most of yet another holiday season without them. But maybe, if they can’t be home with us for now, we can allow them a different form of relief, even if it’s halfway across the world.
Just for the holidays, at least, we can change the conversation. Maybe we do not have to dwell on the pangs of loneliness or the uncertainty of the times. We miss them, yes, but we can allow them to just be there, just this once, to rest after a year’s hard work. Maybe instead of telling them they’re missing out on this year’s lechon, we can let them enjoy—guilt-free—whatever dish they’re having for dinner, which likely has less cholesterol anyway.
For the Pinoy boomerangs who have yet to fly back in, maybe you do not have to be heartbroken about it this year. Maybe this is your year to find a sort of second home where you are. Enjoy the lights of the big city for yourself. Cherish the snowfall or the colors of the souk. Take care of yourself; take your vitamins.
Accept the tender moments between you and your patients or customers, and try not to beat yourself up about not being here to share similar moments with your family.
You’ve sent us enough chocolates to last for months; thank you for the nice-smelling perfume and the $17.9 billion you’ve remitted as of August this year. It’s your turn to be happy—right there, where you are, and until you land back here, where we gratefully wait.
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hyacinthjt@gmail.com