Elderly Filipinos in America: Bored, Neglected and Longing for Home
The U.S. is currently
the biggest source of remittances to the country. But behind the seeming
affluent lives of Filipinos in the U.S. are stories of neglect, boredom,
and longing that Filipino-American elders face.
BY REYNA MAE TABBADA
Bulatlat
LOS
ANGELES - The export of human capital to keep the economy afloat alters
traditional modes of interaction within the Filipino family: an itay
(father) gives advice through e-mail; an inay (mother) comforts
through a celfone, as well as ates and kuyas (older sisters
and brothers) share stories through video streaming. And following the
Filipino practice of extended families, how can we forget the birthday
cards with dollar bills enclosed from lolo and lola
(grandfather and grandmother)?
Filipinos overseas are hailed by the government as “mga bagong bayani”
(new heroes) because their dollar remittances give life to an otherwise
sputtering economy. And the U.S. is currently the biggest source of
remittances to the country. But behind the seeming affluent lives of
Filipinos in the U.S. are stories of neglect, boredom, and longing that
elders face. Whether they have fully settled in their adopted country or
are just waiting for the right time to come back home, their experiences
can be told in a similar tone, one that is distant and bittersweet.
Bayanihan on foreign shores
The
easiest way to look for elderly Filipinos in the U.S. is through the
numerous apartments especially made for senior citizens. More often than
not, one would find a group of senior Filipino-Americans (Fil-Ams) living
together in one building. And with such proximity comes the practice of
bayanihan, the local tradition of lending a helping hand to one's
neighbor, which may range from sharing home-cooked meals to organizing
fund-raising events for the local church.
An
example of such a small Filipino-American community can be found in the
city of Long Beach, California. Directly in front of St. Mary Medical
Center along Atlantic Avenue is the St. Mary's housing project for senior
citizens where persons of legal status aged 65 years and above can avail
of low-rent apartments. It is an abode for a group of Fil-Ams who are
living off their pensions and other privileges accorded to seniors like
weekly rations and taxi vouchers.
The
Filipino elders who live in the St. Mary's housing project have their own
stories to tell: Elsa is the widow of a veteran from the Bataan Long March
where thousands of Filipino soldiers died; Caridad was able to bring all
her children to the U.S. as well as maintain an on-off relationship with
her boyfriend; Melchora continues to send financial support to her family
back in the Philippines; while Gabriela failed to finish her education and
learned to read and write English by herself.
All have
relatives as well as government-appointed social welfare officers to check
on them once in a while and act as contact persons in cases of emergency.
But they also have an informal system of looking out for each other as
they spend day after day in their apartments worrying about the families
they have left a thousand miles away.
A day
in the life
The
primary concern of senior citizens living in the housing project is how
not to get bored. Like Elsa and her friends, the television is considered
the everyday companion of elders. Though city officials as well as
non-government organizations offer free trips to historic sites like
museums, organize various symposiums relevant to older generations and
sponsor dances participated in by different elderly groups, these are not
enough to keep them entertained. This is where the importance of a peer
group, like Elsa's, comes in.
The
almost daily round of apartments starts around eleven o'clock in the
morning, when each one has finished preparing lunch. Usually, Gabriela
makes the trip since she owns a “Mercedes”, a battery-powered wheelchair
with control wheels and brakes. After eating their share of each other's
dishes, they would either go to siesta (afternoon nap), play a game
of domino, or gossip while taking their merienda (snack between
meals). In order to save energy as well as electricity, their lunch would
also be their dinner or until they are able to consume everything in their
pantry, be it made by them or given by others. At night, usually before
nine o'clock, they would call each other to make sure that nothing
untoward happened and if so, would be able to respond immediately. There
were cases when an elder suffered a heart attack in the middle of the
night and was found dead in the bathroom the next morning.
Because
of mobility problems as well as health restrictions, they go out only when
necessary. One of the reasons for them to do so, aside from family
affairs, would be to get their monthly ration of canned goods, cereals,
biscuits, and whatever food products big businesses are kind enough to
give for charity. Though the dietary requirements of elders like them are
taken into consideration, it seems like the expiration dates are not.
Sometimes it would only be days before the product expires. But because of
a need or a want, they always say, “Pwede pa naman yan (It will
still do)”.
Another
reason for them to get exercise is to pick up some grocery items, usually
after their pensions have arrived and the rent and bills have been paid.
They would usually shop at the small warehouse store adjacent to their
building, a short walk across the side street. Yet this also poses a
danger to them, since there are instances when thieves on bicycles target
elders. Melchora had been robbed once at the sidewalk which leads to the
store. But the bigger danger comes from reckless drivers who ignore
traffic signals. There were already a number of hit-and-run cases which
claimed the lives of elders, with some being hit in a hospital zone
directly across the St. Mary's Medical Center emergency room.
Bittersweet but better off
Aside
from Gabriela, whose nephews and nieces take care of her, everyone in the
group has at least a child staying in the U.S., either legal or illegal.
Because of advances in communications nowadays, all are able to keep track
of developments in the Philippines. And it is apparent in their casual
afternoon exchanges how much the situation in their home country has
changed, maybe for the worse. Melchora commented, “Nung grade one ako,
isang sentimo baon ko, at malaki na yun. Ngayon yun apo ko, singkwenta ang
baon, kulang pa.” (When I was in grade one, my allowance was one
centavo and that was a lot then. Now, my grandchild's allowance is fifty
pesos and is still not enough).
Elsa's
elder sister recently died back home, and to express her grief, she and
her friends held a padasal (praying sessions) for nine days. While
they were finishing their snacks after praying, the discussion centered on
whether they preferred to stay in the U.S. or to go back home to spend
their last years in the Philippines.
One
prefers to stay because of the health care plan they are entitled to in
the U.S. as a senior citizen. Another said she prefers the climate in the
U.S. Someone shared that she bought a plot in a cemetery near their
hometown in the Philippines and she would like her ashes to be buried
there. All complained of relatives being pushy and expecting too much from
them just because they have worked abroad. They agreed that they miss
their families back home, but since some of their children and relatives
are in the U.S., then it would have to suffice.
But the
most striking statement was: “Because here, it feels more like home.”
Bulatlat
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