I was spoiled rotten when I was a child (an only child for nearly seven years). Though unusually pious for my age and despite efforts to discipline me, I had an overbearing sense of entitlement (sometimes, admittedly, to this day, I still do), and the terrible twos was, in my case, a tad too terrible.
I was almost two years old when I had my first yaya (I will not name her here). She was impatient, and probably because I was an impossible child (not as bad as Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka, but bad enough)—jovial, thoughtful, religious, malambing towards mama, but pilosopo, demanding, short-tempered, and had violent tendencies—I’d say I brought out the worst in her. Then again, there’s no excuse threatening a child less than three years with a barbecue stick or a fork in the eye when he doesn’t want to eat, or locking him up in a dark bathroom to contain his tantrums (this might explain my claustrophobia in later years).
But when Teofila A. Lopez was sent to Manila to care for me (she worked as a cook at my maternal grandfather’s pension house in Cebu) when I was three, I knew then that things were about to change. A living saint came to live with us.
One afternoon, I came home from nursery school to find my ‘baby unan’ (a stinking pillow I could not sleep without, and which, to this very day, I still sleep with) washed, dried, crisp and clean. ManangPelang(as we fondly call her) was happy to show me that she had done something special for me. Was I pleased? Hell no. I threw a fit, I was outraged. No one touches my things! Like a tiyanak, I shouted at her and attacked her from the back with fists clenched. A certified demonyito child under four years old.
If I was in her shoes, I would have left right away. After all, no one has to put up with attitude like that. But ManangPelang stayed. And when I came to my senses, thinking about what I did, knowing too that she did what she did with the best of intentions, and with a face obviously so excited to show me what she had done for me, I was overtaken with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and remorse. I cried. To this day, when I recall that incident, my eyes still swell up, embarrassed at how I treated someone who put up with my shit and stayed with me, with us, all these years, who’s loved us—my entire family—unconditionally, who has since taken care of all my siblings, and now, my niece Arya. Even her middle initial and family name is like ours, truly meant to be.
I still possess my inherent flaws, yes, but I’ve become an infinitely better person thanks to ManangPelang. Sometimes, I still flare up at home, especially when I look for my things, but I do try to control myself and my temper learning from past mistakes. And never will I call our house help names, no matter how mad I am. I will defend myself from people who undermine me, name-call erring politicians, these so-called powerful people, but never will I belittle the house help. In fact, I find it easy to judge those who do.
I’ve learned to speak, write, debate, add and subtract from my parents, at school (surely, Manang helped completing many of our projects); but Manang has taught us a lot about life, about people, about those who have less in life.And she continues to prevail upon us when we start making snooty remarks. I guess I’ve come to care more because of the stories she’s shared to me growing up.
Through our experience with Manang, I can say that relationships children make with their nannies are some of the most crucial, most important, these being among their very first with non-relatives. Sure, some yayas come and go, not all are like Manang (in fact, some are the total antithesis to her kindness and unconditional love and service), but they nonetheless offer children the chance to forge lasting relationships, learning that people are not like things we can easily dispense with.
There are no perfect yayas (go hire Mary Poppins if you can), and not all of them can teach perfect English, the alphabet, or what have you. But what’s important is they care for the child like they would their own. Because affection and the ability to make lasting relationships are a better guarantee to happiness and a fulfilling life later on, over and above mere intelligence.
So I draw the line against people who maltreat their maids and yayas (I ended my friendship with a supposedly good friend of mine, a female ex-pat who threatened her elderly maid with psychological and verbal abuse; that she’d send her to jail after unfounded accusations of stealing bed sheets. Bed sheets. Tsk.)
To be honest, I doubt the intelligence of people who malign others for being supposedly stupid; a truly intelligent person would know that not everyone is as intelligent, and to expect the same level of intelligence from everyone else, that is stupid.
By the way, that yaya who wasn’t very impatient with me, she apologized years later when she visited us here in Cebu. My mom told her that I remembered everything that happened; she was shocked that I still could, but that she regrets it. All is forgiven. Again, lifelong relationships.
I really hope to champion this advocacy someday, we owe it to Manang. In the meantime, I’m happy that early this year, President Aquino finally signed the Kasambahay Bill into law, upholding the interests of maids in the country and effectively institutionalizing their protection (please take the time to Google it to know more).
Kudos too, to Direk Joey Reyes who’s directed a heartwarming movie about a loving yaya who’s devoted her entire life serving one family. ‘Ano Ang Kulay ng mga Nakalimut ang Pangarap?’ is an official entry at the upcoming “Sineng Pambansa National Film Festival 2013,†brought to us by the Film Development Council of the Philippines, in cooperation with SM Cinema. The festival runs from September 11-17 in SM Cinemas nationwide.
I haven’t seen the movie yet, but watching the trailer, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a tearjerker. But unlike the yaya there whose future became uncertain when the children she took care of for years were all grown up and the family decided to sell their house, ManangPelang can rest assured we’ll be here for her through thick and thin, come hell or high water.
We love you, ManangPelang. Thank you so, so much. And to all the yayas out there, daghang salamat!
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