The Diary of an Immigrant : Part 1

No. This is not a fictional story whatsoever . It happens to be real. It’s my life. Dear Angelapev of Tumblr,this is for you. I was born in a poor family. My mother was a struggling Spanish lecturer back in Philippines and my father..well I never knew what he really did except that there was a point in his life where he worked with the government or something similar to that. But that was back when I was still a toddler. When I started my pre-school,he was the one who took care of me and my little sister. Sent us to school,cooked our meals and did the laundry while my mother was the breadwinner . I called my mother a struggling as a lecturer there because for one,that was quite a fucked up institution and two,she wasn’t paid enough . Life was tough for everyone but I could still see smiles and hear laughter everywhere. Yes,that’s the true - blue Pinoy spirit. No matter how tough life gets, there are still room for smiles and happiness . When I was a baby, my parents could only afford to rent a room in a boarding house which was situated near a commercial center. They lived there with few other students. I remember my mother told me that there was this one Christmas that she could never forget . They were really broke and so they could not afford a proper Christmas meal for the three of us . Hence, my mother cooked sardines and noodles instead for me and my father. Few years later, we moved to a different location since the family had grown. That 1 room could not fit a family of four. We lived in a house fit enough to be called a hut due to it’s unsightly condition. I shared a room with my little sister until my cousins came along which made me and my sister sleep in the same room as my parents. The kids from our area weren’t very friendly as they would only play with me and my sister if we had food with us. If we didn’t, they would beat us up and call us names. There was one time, the bad-ass little bitch of the hood insulted me and well, it made me furious enough to fight back and so I did. I hit her back while she was crossing the bridge. With that sort of unwelcoming reception from the neighborhood kids, all my sister and I could do was play around the house together. Sometimes there were days when we would sit in the porch and just watch the other kids play as they insulted us . We eventually learned that giving them food did not secure a long lasting friendship so we stopped hanging out with them. But then, there were times when we just could not resist the pain of not having playmates around so we still bribe them with snacks several times. Although they eventually leave us when there isn’t any grub left to feed on, we still took the risk for the sake of not feeling like outcasts. The scenario in my housing area was different from my school. I liked school a lot because that was the only time I get to spend time with my childhood best friend, JoAnn and some of my close friends as well. I rarely get to hang out with them after school and I don’t know why. Still is a mystery to me. I felt sorry for my sister though as she did not really have anyone to play with whenever I was in school. Things were a bit easy on her after my dad brought home a puppy. Thalia became the closest thing she could have as a best friend. We lived in the life of debts and financial insecurity until one day,that same old institution came to my mother and offered her to work as a Spanish lecturer in a university in Malaysia. God knew how thankful my parents were for that offer. There were a few bumps here and there before the contract was finalized but at the end of the whole ordeal, the contract deal was a success and the whole family was excited to leave the hardships there. On the mid week of August 1997, the plane I was on touched down to the old International Airport and as we came out of the arrival hall, there she was with a young lady,standing behind her. You see, my mother came a month earlier than us and that explains why she was waiting for us at the airport. My dad ,little sister and I spent a month in Manila before we actually flew to Malaysia . And my uncle came along as well to look for a job in Malaysia. God knew how excited I was. I totally felt that it was our salvation. My salvation. Away from the bullies. From poverty. From pain. From everything bad. We were going to start fresh….. P.S : This was posted in my tumblr ( http://lifeontheslowlane.tumblr.com/ )