It’s back to work for me today. I had to since my leave expired yesterday. It actually kind of feels weird being back at work here in Quezon City. Being someone from Mindanao, where the language, culture, and even traditions are different from those here in the Capital, my vacation in the land of my birth have actually rekindled thoughts on the differences between the people in the Capital and those from Mindanao. Yes, there is a difference, and one can only tell that if one is from Mindanao and has spent considerable time here in Metro Manila.
The burden with being away from the family has never escaped me. Despite being assigned to so many places in my previous jobs, I always feel melancholic whenever I leave them at the end of a visit or the Holidays. I guess that is the result of being born into an insular family. But while some may say that this is immature and pathetic, I would say that me feelings are what sustains me to work where I am and live my life for my family. Where I am I am not only here for myself but also for them. I am here because of my family’s dreams, my family’s hopes, and my family’s future.
Still, being one who hails from the southern, often misconstrued as violent, part of the country, I can only feel at ease and at peace whenever I am with my family and my people, in the land of my birth. Call me a fanatic but I do think much of my place, and despite having been able to work and lives somewhere else, I am able to appreciate better how different it always feels to be in the place of your birth, your childhood, and all the precious moments in your life.
It’s funny that this country of mine often spends much time discussing the fate of migrant workers in the Middle East and yet not one among the policy-makers, has ever thought that much of the people here in the Capital are actually migrants from the provinces, and the experiences of these migrants are as bad, and in some cases, worse, as those encountered by my countrymen in other countries.
Such is the fate of the migrant worker.