OFW Journals (OFW Stories on the News) and Some OFW Employment, Career & Business Tips

Tragedy Into Blessing

It was Thursday evening, exhausted from the whole day's work of renovating the landscaping of the company and even worsen by the strenuous walks around the supermarket to purchase my needs for the whole month, I slump on the carpeted floor and started to sort out the things I bought. Being new in this very extreme Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, we usually are very limited in our transactions outside work for our fear of violating many of their religion imposed rules and restrictions would surely end us in front of a narrow-minded policeman.
My mind was empty and I struggled to classify the things that have to be refrigerated and the things that only need proper arrangements in my improvised cabinet. At least my weary mind and body was complimented by the oversize air-condition of our room. Cold air is blown directly into my previously drenched body ? now mixed feeling of chill, hunger and dizziness. The pang triggered my mind to attempt to pull my thick blanket just a body-stretch away but I resisted for I need to fix first my groceries. I got up quickly before I would yield to my desire and pick those I sorted to be refrigerated placed in the plastic with the supermarket logo.

Now our small kitchen was free from crowded people doing their usual "first come first served" tradition. Our 12-cubic refrigerator is shared with ten people, and I am fortunate enough to be the last to put my things and still it can contain. When it's time to place the canned goods, noodles and other items into its proper place, only then that I realized that I have purchased too much for the month, at least based on my own sensation. I was caught motionless when my hand randomly picked the one with the label "Manila Sardines" and my mind was suddenly rushed into my college days. "Chris, nakakarating ba ang sardinas sa inyo?" teasingly asked by one of my classmates. The group blurted into loud laugh that the other groups few meters away were stunned at my classmate's reaction. Before I could boast with my answer, came again the same voice, "papel nga wala sa kanila, sardinas pa kaya!", "Bwa ha ha ha ha?". Their laughter was even harder and crispier by distorting their voice and imitating that of a devil's. I found myself laughing with them to minimize my embarrassment and at least forgot that I am the subject of their fun.

Most of the time, in my early years in college, every time we go out after class for "merienda", I was the subject of taunting by my classmates. They are always excited to discover more unfortunate things about me, my family and my town. In one instance during our special gathering at our favorite "tambayan", which later I learned that it was our last gathering since we just then finished our thesis defense and everyone is busy to clear all the requirements for graduation and we have no more common time to meet. One of my classmate, who become one of my closest friend and who is very good at stirring the group into burst of laughter called the attention of everyone in a very serious mood, "Guys, we are about to graduate and we don't know where we are going from here. For sure, we will be in different places, or if we are lucky enough, we could land a job in one company."
Everybody is looking at him trying to figure out what he really wants to role-play, expecting to change his mood for another hilarity. But this guy continued to talk in his newfound _expression. He struggled to be with himself and his light complexion turned into crimson red as he talk to me straight in the eye portraying his first ever best performance for the scene, "pards sorry so katuwaan namin sa'yo ha." He was saying more words in his desire to show himself that he was really sorry for making fun of me while the others were in unison nodding their heads in agreement. I only was able to comprehend his first statement since my eardrum was lock when pearl of tears began to develop from my eyes. I concealed myself from crying boldly by swallowing continuously but I couldn't control my nose from sneezing. I have been with these friends for four years and many times they were of help to me financially. Though they are always fun of joking me, sometimes I voluntarily tell them about my life.

One time, during my 3rd year in college, after six months of not going home to my family since I was then staying at one house near the school for help, I was given an opportunity to go home at the end of the first semester. I was very excited then and upon reaching our town, I feel alive with the fresh and soft touch of the afternoon misty breeze of October. From the town proper, I walked through the short way connecting into our barangay down the dusty and rocky road where only the big trucks gathering stones and sands for construction could pass. Along the way was a crystal clear river. I dipped my pair of hand full into the water attempting to gather more so I could splash on my warm face. I sat on one big flat stone to wait for a few minutes before treading my feet into the water. I am always reminded by my grandfather not to go directly into the water when my legs are tired or else I will incur an illness they called "pasma". As I reached our small barangay, people doing their regular afternoon chit-chat are starting to freeze towards my direction. I felt conscious as if my walks are not normal and my feet are heavier than usual. After few more steps, at last I could now see a glimpse of our house from the full-grown weeds and trees in between the pathways and rice fields.

Every twilight, while waiting for the sun to totally hide from the mountains so we could start the long night of sleep, my family are gathered outside our mixed bamboo and wooden house with everyone facing the direction of the sun. After realizing that I am the one coming, my little brothers waived their hands while shouting "Manong Balong?." in recognition of my arrival. I stepped through the corners of the muddy rice field with little feeling of hesitation. For six months I never passed through this sticky and slippery petit path walks. As I come near, I could now glance at my mother sitting comfortably at one of our rattan made bench with her legs fully stretch to the earth while holding her back at one inclined post of our house. Her complete appearance drove me into confusion, "has my mother doesn't gave birth yet?" was the question that forcefully entered into my mind. I greeted my mother with a simple "hi, 'Nay" and I rushed inside the house for a glass of water to quench my thirst. Before I reached our continuously smoking kitchen, there lay in a rattan made crib was a robust baby wrapped in a faded white clothing made out of flour bag. At least even without asking anyone at home, my confusion now becomes clear. Now we are ten and after my mother will gave birth, we will be eleven.

I started to feel lonely about my family and this feeling later becomes even more serious that it gave birth to some degree of resentment. On the day I was about to return to the school for second semester, I leave my family with a heavy heart and as I walk through the same way for a jeepney at the town proper, the stillness of the surrounding and the dews from the leaves of grass trickling down my feet boosted my memory to flashed back into my early days. Different moments were competing to enter my mind. I was in total disorder and I couldn't organize my thoughts. I shook my head badly and shouted when I could no longer bear my confusion, only to be more enraged by the feedback created by the echo in a seems to be louder voice. I sat down in a dense growing grass to gather myself. I tried to rest my body but my mind was directed to some moments I never forget, this time in sequential manner and I could identify them clearly. My first ever day of class in elementary was persistent. My mother put all my things in a "Net bag" and accompanied me until the front door of my room. She left me there after my teacher flags her hand to my mother in acknowledgment. I spent the half day without any trouble and I went home excitedly to tell my mother what we have done in the class but my excitement was immediately extinguished by her angry question "Ayanna diyay lapis mo? (where is your pencil)" while looking at my "net bag". She pulled and twisted my ears and whipped my butt with her slippers concurrently shouting "saan ka nga agis-iskwelan! (don't go to school anymore)".

As I am sitting in the grass, everything became fresh to me that I could not control my anguish. I cried uncontrollably with much pain like I was on that day. My agony was worsen when I saw my father holding a wrist-size wood. I was running in flash to escape from his terror but his larger strides emerge victorious. He catches me in my hand and putted me in a rice sack together with my brother and hanged us into the roof trust. I am now trembling in fear and weeping like a child. I only gained my senses when some group of men were coming my direction to go for work in the "kaingin". Then I also realized that the jeepney will soon be leaving and I can't miss it since that was the only means of transportation going down to the city for that day.

My church mates were in great amusement when I told them this story. one couldn't control herself from laughing and commented, "kahit na ilang lapis ang ilagay mo sa "net bag" mo talagang mawawala yun". Some were asking whether I am serious or I am just making fun of my family.

For long time, I struggled to overcome my insecurities caused by my improper upbringing. Until now I am still in the process of dealing with but my constant communication with Godly people have influenced me to become better and feel assured of God's unfathomable plan as He declared in Jeremiah 29:11; "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Joseph, "the dreamer" says in Genesis 50:20; "You meant evil for me, but God meant it for good", and he went on after being sold for slavery by his brothers to become the second rank in leadership of Egypt.

Since my graduation in college, I never hesitated to tell anyone about my life. I do it purposely in an attempt to convey everyone that even the most tragic experiences that we have gone through, God can turn them into blessings. My resentment was now replaced with deeper understanding and desire to extend whatever I have.

One morning, while listening in a Christian Radio Station, I was struck by the Pastor's declaration in his regular devotional program, he said "It is not your fault if you were born destitute, but after 40 or 60 years of living in this world with all the opportunity and resources that God has given and yet you still remain poor or much poorer, that is already your responsibility and you will account that to God."

We may be born unfortunately, raised improperly and treated unjustly, but these must not be the reason not to go on, instead, it should served as our inner motivation to seek a better life. Every situation is an opportunity to grow and apply our God-given wisdom. God knows everyone of us by name. He knows our struggle and everything that is within us.
When it is time to cook my food, I paid my last tribute to the variety of things in my cabinet and my eyes were satisfied the way they were assembled. These are just material things but I also felt something void being filled in my well-being. I never expect that I could go this far from our far-flung barangay and now I could feed-up my self with the taste of different kind of sardines.

The Adventurer