Sleepless in Saipan

Every night is a struggle to clock in at least 8 hours. This is one of those ordinary nights wherein I toss and turn and can't sleep at night, it's worrying me (yeah, I know it sounds familiar). This is a blow-by-blow account of the struggle of an insomniac.
9:00pm - I get ready for bed. Wear my pyjamas. Clean my face, brush my teeth. I fluff my pillows. Straighten my bed covers and lie down. After 10 minutes, my eyes refuse to close. My mind goes over what transpired during the day. Just like a director shooting a scene that does not make the grade, my mind goes" "Take 1. OK! Not good enough. Take 2 then. What if I did this instead of doing that?"

9:30pm - Sleep does not come. I am beginning to turn to an impatient suitor.

9:45pm - I reach for my book. Right now, I am reading another one by Isabel Allende. I am on the last few pages of Zorro.

10:00pm - My eyes are drowsy. I am beginning to fall asleep. The letters swim before my eyes. The book falls off my bed and I am off to dreamland.

1:30am - I wake up. Look at my watch. I try to figure out what time it is. One hand points at 6, while the other points at 1. I don't see which is the long hand and which is the short hand. The dim light makes it hard for me to figure out. I check my phone instead. Shit! It's 1:30am.

1:50am - I try the breathing exercises I read from Cory Quirino's column.
Inhale . . . . Hold for 10 seconds. . . . . Exhale. . . .

2:00am - Still, the exercises don't work. I am starting to feel the tension. I need to sleep, damn it! I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow. (or is it today already?)

2:10am - Desperate, I get up. Turn the lights on and reach out for Zorro again. I finish the novel and start to see the pattern in all of Allende's novels. Well, authors would always have that recurring theme and/or characters in their novels. The character who refused to speak after a traumatic event (House of the Spirits; Zorro). The house/mansion with so many rooms and interesting stories (House of the Spirits, Zorro; My Portrait in Sepia). John Grisham would always have the Mafia as a backdrop for his novels. Erich Segal with the struggle of the Jews, the Hitler era and modern-day America.

2:30am - I scribble my random thoughts in my journals. My writing does not follow a logical pattern. No theme stands out. I give up and stop writing.

3:00am - Is my fellow contract worker still awake? Should I chat with him? Well, he's been too aloof lately. He might not reply. Or maybe he's fast asleep. The Hamlet question: "To text or not to text...."

3:15am - It's November. Just a few more months. Just a few more days. I am halfway with my Saipan adventure. Everything has been pretty good so far.

3:30am - Tick....tock....tick.....tock.....tick.....tock.....

3:45am - I close my eyes real tight. Pull my blanket over my head. Lie straight like a stiff cadaver. I try to recite the mantra....."Let go of all thoughts and relax...."

4:00am - The pressure heightens. I think of all the work I have to finish tomorrow. Please God, let me sleep. I remember an acquaintance who told me that he could sleep for 14hours straight. I get envious of his "talent." Sleeping is his way of coping with homesickness he said.

4:30am - tossing and turning......tossing and turning....tossing and turning....

5:00am - I lose another battle. I give up. I just hug my pillow and remain in bed. I still have 2 more hours before my get-out-of-the-bed time.

5:30am - My eyes remain closed. My mind wide open. Planning. Thinking. Wishing.

6:00am - Tick.....tock.....tick.....tock....tick....tock....

6:30am - The neighbors come alive. The radio at unit S-29 is on. I hear someone frying something. The kids are up.

7:00am - Stretch......stretch.....stretch......

7:30am - Time to get up. Brush my teeth. Prepare my sandwich. Choose what to wear. My body doesn't feel rested. My eyes are red. I look like a stale fish.

7:35am - My grilled cheese sandwich is done. Time to take a bath.

7:50am - Dress up. Wear my office outfit. Fix my hair. Put a little blush on my face to hide the I-lost-another-battle-with-insomnia look. Dash my eyes with a few colours. A little lipstick. Off to work I go.

8:00am - I am in my car. Listening to some mushy songs from a Martin Nievera CD while driving. I sing along real loud to vent out my frustration.

8:30am - I sip on my brewed coffee. Take a bite on my sandwich while checking my e-mails. I am ready for another day in the corporate jungle. Tonight would be another battle. I hope I'll have my 8 hours. I am looking forward to getting it. I am hoping against hope.

Judge for a Day

Classroom C2 at the Garapan Elementary School. Notice the computers. Macs!

A typical kindergarten classroom in a public school here in Saipan

Last Saturday (October 21, 2006) I got invited to volunteer as a judge at the Primary Grade Forensic Conference (sounds fancy right?) held at Garapan Elementary School. It was actually a speech contest. My qualifications? Well, I used to join these kinds of contests when I was in grade school.

The contest is open to grade school children of all public and private schools in Saipan. The contest covers 6 events: The Reader's Forum, Duo Interpretation, Humorous Interpretation, Dramatic Interpretation, Choral Speaking and Impromptu Speaking.

After being given a short briefing on the events, the forms and the room assignments, I was directed to room C2. We were in pairs and my teammate was Cathy, a fellow accountant.

I was impressed with the kind of classrooms public schools have here. They had computers (the computers were Macs!), books, building blocks and aircon. C2 was a classroom for kindergarten class. In the Philippines, only the private schools have these kinds of facilities and of course the tuition fee would cost the parents an arm and a leg. Oh well, public schools in Saipan are funded by the US government.

Cathy and I were to sit as judges for 3 events - Dramatic Interpretation, Reading Forum and Impromptu Speech.

Dramatic Interpretation is more like a declamation contest. But, since the contestants are 5-year olds, they could read their pieces. Most kids have memorized their pieces and I couldn't believe they were 5-year olds. The kids were tall for their ages, they spoke fluently (no baby talk) and they were very confident (except for one kid who spoke so softly). I was so impressed with this girl who was so good. Her diction was perfect that I had goosebumps while she was reciting her speech.

The kids were given a code so the judges would not know their names and from what school they were from. Most kids recited Shel Silverstein pieces, one kid did Captain, my Captain - a Walt Whitman classic.

Two kids recited "Soldier, my Soldier." A story about a maid (lady) who wanted to marry this soldier. The soldier had a lot of excuses, like he didn't have boots or trousers. The maid (lady) tried to provide what the soldeir wanted so he would marry her. In the end, the soldier confessed that he can't marry the maid (lady) because he has a wife. I thought, "What an asshole!" Why didn't he tell the maid that he was married the very first time they met. Why did he give all these lousy excuses about him not having boots or trousers etc. The soldier is a typical jerk, isn't it?

After the first event, we tallied the scores and gave the results to the coordinator. A short break followed. The 2nd event which was the Reading Forum was also fun. I was amazed at how kids read nowadays. They don't have the sing-song accent we used to have in grade school. They read with feelings. They were prepared. Some even wore their party dress and of course, moms put a little make-up and lipstick to little girls. The boys looked cute with their polos and neckties.

The most anticipated event was the Impromptu Speaking contest. What? Impromptu Speech for 5-year olds? They were to pick a topic from the envelope and were given 5 minutes to prepare. Mom or dad or coach could help and then the kid will deliver the speech.

The topics were: I wish I could be a cloud because

: I wish could be water because

: I wish could be paper because

and

: 3 things I don't like about trouble

: 3 things I don't like about homework
: 3 things I don't like about ice-cream.

Most of the parents wrote the speech. However, they just enumerated the 3 things they didn't like about homework or trouble or ice-cream or whatever topic was chosen. The contest could actually be called Speechwriting Contest or Enumeration Contest for Mom and Dad. If I had a kid and the contest would be like this, I could make my kid win without breaking a sweat.

One topic which really puzzled me was: 3 things I don't like about nothing. Huh? Would a 5-year old be able to talk about this topic? How could one discuss this complicated topic without going through philosophical rumblings?

We finished tallying the scores at 1pm. The list of winners were posted in the cafeteria. I was busy looking at the list when I felt a hand tug my T-shirt. It was the girl that made my hair stood at its end. The girl who gave me goosebumps. She was smiling and she said, "Thank you."

She won first place. I felt so happy for her. I took a closer look at at her and noticed that her dress was kindda old and faded. She looks like a poor kid but she was really good. She deserved to win.

While walking back to my car, I offered a silent wish for that little girl. I wished that life would be kind to her. That she continues her studies. That she does well in school and that she succeeds in whatever endeavor she chooses.

To be a judge for a day is such a heartwarming experience.

My Fellow OFW: A Profile

The first time I met him was during the preliminary interview. He was sent to Manila to screen the applicants for the position I applied for. I can distinctly remember the blue polo he was wearing because it had floral designs. He reminded me of Lito Atienza's Hawaiian inspired polos.

Anyway, when the headhunter representative said that the Chief Financial Officer was to interview me, I was expecting someone who would be in his 50's. Someone older.

He came to the room smiling. I was a bit nervous because it was my first job interview after so many years. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw him. He was young. He was about my age. As it turned out, he was only 39, just 4 years older than I was.

His first question was, "Tell me something about yourself."

Hah! The standard interview question. With my I-can-speak-English-pretty-well attitude, I started to tell him about myself focusing on my passion for writing and my love for travelling. I think he ran out of English terms (read: naubusan ng english. he!he!) so he shifted to Tagalog. Oh, well, then I started to speak in Tagalog too. The interview was like talking to an auditee.

He said that he used to work with my bank too, so we started to talk about people we know.

Him: "Kumusta na si Ms. Area Head?"

Me: "Ay, nag exit-conference ako with her a few weeks back. I audited one of her branches."

Me: "Sino ang mga nag-audit sa branch mo dati."

Him: "Si Cecile. Yung maganda pero maliit na auditor. Si Pinky, yung serious..... (Smiles) Bagsak nga ako palagi sa audit eh."

The interview went well. I never gave it much thought. I was too detached to focus on it.

To make the long story short, I got the job. I passed the final interview (with the President and the Chairman of the Board). My Fellow Contract Worker started sending me e-mails. He was asking about the interview. If I gave my resignation already. My preparations. The tone of his e-mails were solicitous. I thought, "He seems to be a really nice person."

When I arrived here in Saipan, he bacame my constant companion. An adviser of sorts. He said he knew about cars (he had 2 in the Philippines before) and he has been driving for 15 years. I didn't know anything about cars, so he would offer me advice on what car to buy. For almost a month, we would scout every car dealer in the island looking for the perfect second hand car for me. Something that would be nice and would fit my budget. Little did I know that everything would lead to the traumatic and I-shed-a-bucket-of-tears episode of my Saipan adventure. (Many months have passed but I would always wonder if I was deliberately led to it or not.)

He became my constant lunch (and sometimes dinner) companion. At lunch, we would trade stories about our former bank. He would tell me stories about his life in Saipan. His experiences as an OFW. The not so wonderful experiences he had with the Chamorros (specifically with the boyfriend of one officemate and the attitude of his staff). His plans for the bank. His plans for his family and his personal life.

I would share with him my opinions about certain issues. I would probe into his stand on religion (not a very good topic to discuss), gender issues and feminism, office politics. We would discuss about movies and films. He could talk and the most interesting conversations I had was with him. We would have differing opinions and sometimes he can't explain his points of view very well (specially about gender issues) but he's the only person whose mind came close to mine. Yet, there would always be a certain wariness on his part. I can't quite figure it out exactly. He would resort to technicalities and word play when certain issues are raised. Sometimes he would send me biting text messages about how to do my job. I wonder what his motivations are. I would text back answering the messages using the tone of a docile child, or a Gabriela Silang or a detached unmotivated yuppie depending on my mood.

On a personal level, he would tell me about his latest conquests (his girls of course!) while chatting on the YM. He would text me about how his gimmick went (which usually starts at around 10pm and would last till wee hours in the morning). Sometimes, he would come to the office with blood shot eyes and fresh-out-of-the-bed outfit. He would wait until lunchtime so he could take a nap or go home early so he could catch some sleep. I should not care. It's none of my business but I was concerned on how the Chamorros would view us. We were the only contract workers in our company and we came from the same bank in the Philippines. If I tell the Chamorros the kind of discipline we had with our former bank, would they believe me? They would just look at my fellow contract worker and conclude that I am lying. So, I try to live up to the image of a professional banker. I am straight as a rod in a world of crooked ones. He was self-destructing right before my eyes.

I would quietly listen to his stories and be interested in them. I would listen as he tells me why he didn't go to the office.

Him: "I wasn't feeling very well."

Me: "Again? Why?"

Him: "I feel demoralized."

Me: "Well, we live and have to deal with the way corporate politics move here, so let's just do what we have to do."

Him: "You know what? I stayed in my apartment the whole day and cleaned it."

Me: "That's good." (I remember my earlier days in Saipan when my apartment is so clean because I don't have anything to do and was so bored to my bones. I would clean and scrub my bathroom till my hands are raw.)

Him: " I scraped all the paint spots on the floor. I used a knife to do it. All the time, my mind was flying."

During these times, my heart would just melt for him. He and I are on the same journey and I understand his plight perfectly. But the next day, he would be up and about as if nothing happened.

I have this theory that he's just midlifing. He's your typical Pinoy macho and although he tells me all these experiences, I wonder how he truly feels about it deep in his heart.

These past few months, he has built a wall around him and I have started to build my own circle of friends too. We have created and followed different paths yet his experiences are still closest to my own(except for the night outs and gimmicks of course). I could relate to him because we are so alike in more ways than one. We move in the same world of accounting. We came from the same disciplined and ultra-conservative financial institution that helped shape our work ethic. We get shocked at the strange (for lack of better word) financial environment of Saipan.

I tell him, "Being alone could be a very spiritual experience you know. Being alone does not necesarily mean that you are lonely. We learn a lot about ourselves when we are alone."

I don't know how he processes personal thoughts. He holds back often. I guess he thinks I am too nosy.

He may have done many things that I better not tell you dear reader, but you see, my fellow contract worker is one of the many faces of the Pinoy diaspora. He left the comforts and security of his job. He left his family to pursue the mighty dollar. He had screwed some things (and people too!) here in Saipan and he has decided to stay for another year or two. I know he will thrive here and I could bet on that.

But life has very strange twists and turns. I could only wish him well.

Note:

My Fellow Contract Worker has decided not to renew his contract in January 2007.

Apat na Pinoy

May apat na Pinoy sa kumpanyang aking pinaglilingkuran. Si Tita, Si Ate, Si Kuya at si Bunso.

Si Tita at si Ate mga American Citizens na. Blue ang passport at may tatak agila. Si Tita ang asawa ay Chinoy na lumaki sa America kaya ugali at utak Kano. 12 years na sa Saipan si Tita. Nanirahan sa California bago pumunta dito. May isang cute at bibong anak na lalake. Mabait si Tita. Maalalahanin at maasikaso. Matapang at diretso magsalita. Mga katangiang hinangaan ko sa kanya.

Nitong mga nakaraang buwan, palagi kong nakakasama at nakakausap si Tita. Marami siyang naikukwento sa akin tungkol sa mga personal na mga bagay, mga hinaing at reklamo sa trabaho at kung anu-ano pa. Masarap kasama si Tita. Kasi nga nanay kaya alaga ako kapag sya ang kasama. Karay-karay nya ako sa mga padasal, kainan at minsan sa shopping. Maraming kwento si Tita. Hindi sya nauubusan ng topics. Maraming bagay ang halos pareho sa buhay namin. Panganay kami pareho kaya natanim sa mga pagkatao namin ang responsibilidad hindi lang sa aming mga sarili kundi na rin sa buong pamilya. Ang buong pamilya ni Tita (nanay at mga kapatid) ay nandito nang lahat sa Saipan. Si Tita ang comfort zone ko kapag may okasyon sa bangko. Maraming okasyon ang muntik ko nang hindi dinaluhan kasi hindi ako "in" sa mga inuman ng mga Chamorro. Buti na lang bawal sa relihiyon nina Tita ang uminom ng alak kaya sumasama ako kapag nandun sya. Si Tita madaming advice sa akin. Minsan nakikinig ako. Minsan hindi. Pero lahat ng kwento nya, lalo na tungkol sa mga personal na mga bagay sa buhay nya ay nakatago sa puso ko dahil alam kong mahalaga yun sa kanya. Pero isang bagay ang kailangan kong isiwalat para sa artikulong ito. Si Kuya ay hindi kabilang sa mga taong paborito ni Tita.

Si Kuya, katulad ko ring OFW. Green ang passport at kadalasan kailangan manikluhod sa mga Kano, Hapon, Italyano atbp. just in case gusto naming makatapak sa bansa ng mga ito. (Read: Kung gusto naming magka-visa. Kapag US Citizen kasi hindi kailangan ng visa kahit saan lupalop ng mundo gustong mamasyal.) Dalawang taon na dito sa Saipan si Kuya. May asawa at dalawang anak sa Pilipinas. (Hindi ko alam kung meron din dito sa Saipan). Mahilig sa babae pero ayaw umamin na babaero sya. Friendly lang daw kasi sya.

Si Kuya ay manager dati sa bangkong pinanggalingan namin, pero ngayon ko lang nakita at nakilala. Sa 10 years na pagiging "magka-opisina" namin, ngayon lang kami naging magka-opisina talaga. Matalino si Kuya. Summa cum laude at mataas ang nakuha sa CPA board exams. Kung susuriin maganda ang resume pero may kulang. Siguro sa character nya.

Mabait naman si Kuya (kung may kailangan), maalalahanin din naman (sa umpisa), masayang kasama (kapag walang topak), maraming ideas (huwag mo lang kokontrahin at maraming palusot na alam yan). Isa siyang ehemplo ng corporate animal. Mataas ang sweldo ni Kuya, isang palatandaan na alam nyang gumalaw sa mundo ng mga kapitalista. Noong bago ako dito sa Saipan, ihinabilin ako ni Tita kay Kuya. Si Kuya ang aking palaging kasama. Alam kong maraming nag-akala na baka higit pa sa pagiging magka-opisina ang relasyon namin. Pero mali ang akala nila.

Dahil nga pareho kami sa maraming bagay, itinuring kong kaibigan si Kuya, pero hindi naglaon lumabas ang mga nakakatakot at hindi kaaya-aya nyang ugali. Ganun pa man, pinipilit kong maintindihan kung saan sya nanggagaling. Siguro ganun talaga kapag OFW kayo pareho (O siguro dahil likas akong mabait). Pero in fairness kay Kuya, kitang-kita ko sa mga mata nya kung gaano nya ipinagmamalaki ang mga anak nya. Kaya kahit nakakairita sya minsan (ay dumadalas na ngayon), I am trying my best na makita ang mga positibong aspeto sa pagkatao ni Kuya. Marami syang pilosopiya at mga gawain na hindi ako sang-ayon at minsan hindi ko ma-reconcile ang mga sinasabi nya sa ginagawa nya. Ganun pa man, gusto ko pa ring maniwala na may kabutihan pa rin sa puso si Kuya. Alam kong marami syang mga pangarap at plano para sa pamilya at sa sarili. Marami din syang naikwentong mga personal na bagay sa akin at lahat ng iyon ay nakasulat sa mga journals ko at alam ni Kuya na papatay ako ng tao kapag may bumasa ng mga iyon ng wala akong pahintulot.

Si Ate naman, makulay, magulo at masalimuot ang istorya ng buhay. American Citizen na din si Ate. Nakapag-asawa ng isang Chamorro ngunit nagkahiwalay sila ng kanyang asawa. May anak na dalagita. Masayang magkwento si Ate. Kalog. Babaeng bakla. At maraming tsismis na alam. Kapag nadadalaw ako sa branch niya, madami palagi syang kwento. Taga-pakinig lang naman ako kasi puro bago sa pandinig ko ang mga kwento nya. Kwento tungkol sa mga personal na buhay ng mga kaopisina namin, alam lahat ni Ate. Ate Cristy nga minsan ang tawag ko sa kanya. Pati mga kwento sa politika sa opisina, updated si Ate. Minsan nakapagtataka dahil malayo sya sa Head Office pero online pa rin sa mga chika. Lahat ng chika nya, totoo naman. Si Ate nga ang nagsabi sa akin tungkol sa mga chika na kumakalat tungkol sa akin. Siyempre sa umpisa nagalit ako, pero naisip ko, "Aba, at bakit ako mag re-react eh, hindi naman totoo?"

At dahil parang showbiz dito sa Saipan, ginaya ko ang ginagawa ng mga sikat na artista tulad nina Sharon. Dedmahin ang chika. I won't go down their level no? Ayun, tumahimik ang mga makakating dila.

Kapag nagkaroon ako ng pagkakataon na makasulat ng nobela o kahit short story lang, isa sa mga pagbabasehan ko ng karakter ay si Ate. Minsan kasi ang mga kwento nya sobrang strange. Pakiwari ko tuloy baka nagbibiro lang si Ate. O di kaya, she's formulating fiction too. Naalala ko tuloy yung sinabi ng propesor ko dati sa Fiction 10, "The fiction that is our lives.........."

Si Bunso naman, bagong salta sa Saipan. Mahilig sa libro, sa musika, sa pelikula, sa badminton, sa swimming (kahit hindi madunong lumangoy), sa kape at sa mga interesanteng tao at usapan. Nahihirapang mag-adjust sa buhay sa isla dahil sanay sa buhay Maynila. Hindi makasabay sa ritmo ng buhay isla dahil mas mataas ang antas ng mga hilig kaysa sa karamihan. Sa unang tingin, mataray at seryoso si Bunso. Pero kapag nakilala mo sya, makikita mo na mabait sya sa kaibigan, maalalahanin at mapagbigay. Hindi maramot sa kaalaman at handang magturo sa mga taong nais matuto. Idealist si Bunso. Gusto pa ring panghawakan ang pilosopiya na "Man is basically good." Ayan tuloy, ilang beses ng umiyak dahil sa mga salbaheng tao. Ngunit minsan, saan nga ba natututo kundi sa mga pagkakamali?

Introspective si Bunso. Manunulat kasi. Madaldal at makwento din minsan lalo na kung nakakatagpo ng mga taong katulad nya ng hilig. Hindi magtatagal sa isla si Bunso dahil ayon nga kay Tita, "Hindi ka para sa isla Bunso. Masyadong payak mag-isip ang karamihan ng tao dito sa isla. Mabo-bore ka dito."

Sa pangkalahatan, natutuwa ako at napadpad ako sa islang ito. Marami akong nakita, narinig, na-experience at nakilala. Totoo man o hindi ang mga kwento nina Ate, Tita, Kuya at Bunso, patuloy pa rin akong makikinig. Magtatanong. Maglilinaw. Interesado palagi dahil sila ay ako at ako ay sila.

Six Faces of Pinoy Diaspora - Saipan Version

I don't even have to speak in English. I could go about my daily routines and get by. They say I am lucky. I earn more than what they would earn in 3 even in 4 years. I see them everywhere. Working as service crews in McDonalds, the standard question giving them away. "Dine-in or take out?" (In US Mainland the question would be, "For here or to go?")

Visit a sick friend in Commonwealth Health Clinic (CHC) and the nurses would be Pinoys. Read the newspapers: Saipan Tribune or Marianas Variety, the editors and the writers are Pinoys. Go to a strip club, the naked dancers are Pinay teen-agers. Check-in a hotel and the person who will clean your room would be a Pinoy too.

The standard question for every new acquaintances is, "Ilang taon ka na dito sa Saipan?" Some have stayed here for decades, enjoying the provincial and unhurried lifestyle in the island.

Some have not gone home for years and have lived an alternate life here in Saipan. New wife, new family, new kids even.

When I meet someone who came from Manila, I usually get the same reaction, "Napadpad pala ako sa probinsya. US territory na hindi mukhang Amerika." Hah! The disillusionment of the typical brown American.

However, those who came from the provinces in the Philippines like Tarlac, Pampanga, Batangas, Bataan or Pangasinan, never had much adjustment in terms of lifestyle because Saipan is generally just like those provinces.

These are some of the stories of the Pinoys here in Saipan. (Names have been changed to protect their identities)
Abby the DJ

I met Abby in one of the government agencies in Manila. We attended the same Pre-Departure Orientation Seminar. She is a seasoned OFW, having worked in Taiwan as a factory worker for 2 years. She said that she has a fiancee who is also working in Taiwan. "Balak na naming magpakasal next year. One year lang ako sa Saipan. Balak kong pumunta ng Canada."

She came to Saipan, two weeks before I did. After almost a month, we finally touched base. We kept in touch. She is working as a car rental agent in her aunt's car rental business. She has the spunk of youth, she's only 23. She laughs at my extreme caution. When she had her first salary, she called me "May sweldo na ako."
"Ako rin," I said.
"Magkano sinuweldo mo."
I kept quiet. I didn't dare tell her. "Basta."
"Ako, $400," the pride evident in her voice.
She volunteered as a guest DJ in one of the Pinoy radio stations here in Saipan. Reading text messages, answering calls and playing the listeners requests. After a few months, she had her own radio time slot. She was happy. She loved the attention she's getting. She feels famous because DJs here are the "celebrities." I see her once in a while at the airport when I go on my off-island trips. She tells me the intrigues and the politics on the radio station. The personal problems she has with her relatives. The new "boyfriend" and the show.
"Are you renewing your contract?" she asks me.
I just shrugged my shoulders.
"I am staying for another year. I am enjoying my radio show."
She has found her place in the island. And she is enjoying her shot of the limelight. I hope he does not wake up one day to feel its emptiness.

-0-0-0-
Amor the Temptress (?)

She's one of the two people I met before coming here in Saipan. She's a young mother at 28. She's pretty and she seems nice. She's a first time OFW like me. It's her first time to go out of the country. First time to even board a plane. First time to live alone and away from her family.
She worked as a saleslady in her cousin's boutique. The business was not doing well so the cousin didn't pay her salary. For months, her cousin treated her badly. The only nice person she knew was the cousin's husband who fell for her. The love-triangle went on for months until the cousin found out and went berserk.
Fortunately for her, she found a new job as a cashier in one of the famous hotels here. She lives in the hotel's housing facilities and the last time I saw her, she was crying, "Gusto ko nang umuwi."
I had a lot of questions in my head. How? Why? What happened? I never asked the questions though. She was in too much trouble already. All I did was listen.

-0-0-0

Pamela the Loveless (or Not?)

She's an accountant who sings beautifully and dances perfectly. She loves wearing maong skirt, showing her firm legs. She used to be married but chose her family responsibilities over her now ex-husband. The relationship did not end well so she still goes through emotional downtime when the ex-husband pops into her life once in a while. The ex-husband is in the Philippines.
She's funny in her bitchy way. "Hay, sister, kakabato talaga dito sa Saipan. Sunugin na natin ang islang ito. "
She joins me and Kat in badminton once in a while when she feels like it. She invites me to her gimiks but since I have a terrible singing voice and two left foot, I rarely join her night outs. She goes out on dates.
"Sister, happy ako ngayon. Dapat happy tayong lahat."
"Bakit ka happy?"
"Basta. Tsaka ko na lang sasabihin."
After a few weeks, she sends me an e-mail. "That guy is a jerk!"
Another one of those possible relationships that failed to bloom despite the high hopes.
Her best friend is a guy whom she has introduced to me. He is funny and he looks OK. They've been friends for a long time and they feel comfortable with each other. She texts him to pick her up after badminton and he comes running. He doesn't mind whether it's raining or it's late.
I had dinner with them one time and the hopeless romantic in me would wish, sana sila na lang. Unfortunately, the guy is married. Well, the complicated love stories of modern times. I wonder how this would end. I wish Pamela a happy ending. She deserves it.

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Roderick the Lover

He is one of the first guys who was introduced to me. Barely a month in Saipan, I got invited hiking in Forbidden Island. He was one of my companions. He was handsome despite being dark. I bump into him once in a while. We just say "Hi" and "Goodbye."
But I always see him during badminton games. He has a "girlfriend" The "girlfriend" is "Fe." Fe is gay. He is an accountant and a 5-year OFW in Saipan. Fe plays badminton very well. Her drop shots are difficult to "answer" One Saturday, I played doubles with Roderick and Fe and another acquaintance whose name I cannot remember anymore. Fe and I were partners while Roderick and the other girl played against us. When Fe serves, Roderick would look intensely into Fe and wink at her. (How sweet!) They look beautiful together. I totally agree with that gay writer who once wrote, "Heterosexuals do not have a monopoly on love."

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Karen and Kate - More than housemates

Karen is sexier than Kate. Karen is taller. Karen's boobs are bigger. In my opinion, Karen is prettier than Kate. Karen is the "man" in the relationship.
Some of my friends say that Kate is prettier than Karen (Beauty really is subjective). Kate is more charming. Kate is more prim and proper. Kate is the "girl" in the relationship.
They are both nurses. They look young. About 25 I guess. They look good together. During our badminton games, they usually are partners. Their game has greatly improved. I remember how Karen used to struggle with her service. She can't even get the shuttlecock in. Last week, Karen joined the tournament and won a few games against seasoned ex-tennis players now turned badminton fanatics.
One Sunday afternoon, when Karen and Kate passed by our area, I overheard one guy say, "Sayang no? Maganda pa naman."
I wondered, who was he referring to.
When I see Karen and Kate, I feel a quiet admiration for them. They look perfect for each other.

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Lisa - A Dream Turned Nightmare

She was one of the friendly waitresses in the hotel I stayed in. I was there for a month and during breakfasts, she and I would chat a bit. She's married with 2 kids in the Philippines. She shows me a school ID of her son and proudly say, "Matalino ang batang yan."

When I checked-out of the hotel and found my own apartment, I didn't see her anymore. The hotel closed after a month declaring bankruptcy. I went on with my life and met new acquaintances.

A few weeks ago, she sent me a text message. She said she wanted to kill herself because she has a very big problem. She called me and she was crying. "I need money to buy a ticket home."

I listened to her story, "She tried applying for jobs with other companies when the hotel closed, she found odd jobs, she fought with her sister and is now staying in her boyfriend's apartment. She needs to go home because her entry permit has expired but she does not have enough money for airfare."

I told her that she should go to the Philippine Consulate and ask for help. She said, she cannot do that because her papers were not in order. She came here sponsored by another person who was not really her employer and if she goes to the consulate and they would find out about it, she would be banned in Saipan forever.

One part of me wanted to help, but, I don't know her. I am wary of people with sob stories. (And I usually remit all my money home)

She was disappointed when I said I could not help her. She never got in touch after that. I don't have any idea what happened to her. I could only wish that her nightmare has ended.

There are a lot more stories I hear. I ask new acquaintances about their experiences and they gladly share it to me. The stories are interesting. But most often than not, they would evolve around the romantic side of life. Maybe it's the loneliness that envelops this island. When you are alone, extremely bored and homesick, the companionship offered by other people soon develops into alternate relationships. In this island of illusions, people make do.

An Octopus, A Crab, A Deer and A Bat

Steamed Octopus

Fruit Bat in Coconut Milk and Corn

Stir Fried Octopus

Coconut Crab in Coconut Milk

When it comes to food, I could say that I am pretty much adventurous. I am willing to try anything as long as I could chew and swallow it. For someone who had ameobaiasis some few years back, I still am willing to give my taste buds a different kind of experience.

Here in Saipan, I tried all the kinds of food I was offered. Bread fruit, sashimi, kimchi, soba with hot pepper. I even tried "chewing bettlenut." It's a common practice here. Almost everybody chews bettlenut. In the Philippines, only the old ones do but here in Saipan, men, women, teen-agers chew bettlenut like crazy.

It was during an officemate's birthday party. They were chewing and I asked them to describe how it tastes like. Of course, they just said, "Why don't you try it?" I got a tiny piece of the bettlenut, put some lime on it and wrapped it with the leaf. I put it in my mouth and started to chew. After about 3 seconds, I threw it all up. God! It tastes like poison. I can't describe the taste. All I knew is, I will not try it again and I don't like it.

Last Thursday, when I was in Rota (one of the islands in CNMI), it was another food adventure for me. I ate Octopus, Deer meat, Coconut crab and dyaran!!!!!!! Bat!
Yep, I ate Octopus. It tastes like squid only a bit tougher and more bland. It was steamed and I dipped it in soy sauce with wasabe. Not a very spectacular experience. I like squid better. At least squid is more tender and more tasty. Even the stir-fried version did not taste that good.
Squid pa rin ako. Steamed. Grilled or Adobo.

Deer Meat cooked in coconut milk. In Tagalog, "Ginataang USA" The meat was tasty. It was tender and it's the better version of beef. Health wise, they say it's better than any other meat because deer meat is lean meat. It doesn't have much fat.

Coconut Crab. I ate the "sipit" part. The meat was tougher than the ordinary crab meat. It was cooked with coconut milk too but they removed the "gata" and served it dry. They put the "gata" in a mug and they served it as soup. I just took a sip. It was so tasty, but due to too much coconut milk, I did not dare suffer the laxative effect. I still have a job to finish and I can't afford a bum stomach.

The Bat. It was cooked in coconut milk also. They served it on a bowl with sweet corn on top of it. I could figure out the shape of the bat from the white soup. The bat wings figured out prominently.

"What is it?" I asked, hoping it was not what I thought it was.
"Bat." One of guys answered.
"Bat?" "As in the bat?"
"Yes." They chorused.
"Where did you guys get it?" "From a cave?"
"No!" "That's a different kind. This one is a fruit bat."

I figured, OK, a fruit bat. Therefore, this bat eats fruits only.

It was a big bat. The wing span was about 7 inches. I got the spoon and tried to stir it up. They cooked it without removing the skin so the "balahibo" was still intact. I didn't get to see the head and the body. Just the legs and the wing part.

One of the guys was eating heartily. He got the leg part and ate it like a fried chicken drumstick. He looked at me and said, "Try it."

Well, the adventurer in me accepted the challenge. I took a tiny sliver of the meat. It's a dark meat like beef.

I put the meat in my plate, and I was unconscious of how the locals were looking at me. I turned the tiny meat around, inspected it and put it in my mouth. The smell was so strong that it registered in my tounge. The most apt description for the smell would be the smell of a damp rug which was kept in a locked and unventilated room for a week.

"The male fruit bat smells that way. But the female fruit bat has no smell." The guy volunteered the information.

The meat has the consistency of beef. I chewed and swallowed. I didn't throw up but I didn't get another serving. I just watched the locals while they ate the bat with gusto. Well, here in Rota the bat is a rare delicacy.

While on our way back to the hotel, my companion told me, "Hindi maipinta ang mukha mo kanina habang kinakain mo yung paniki."

I replied, "I was just trying to savor the experience. "

So here I am, sharing the food adventure I had. I wish I had the vocabulary of the late Doreen Fernandez when it comes to describing food. (Unfortunately, I have a limited repertoire of words to describe food.)

But come to think about it, the high sense of adventure I have when it comes to food reflects the way I approach some of the issues life brings me. Sometimes, all you have to do is try it so you could decide if you like it or not. If it's good for you or not. However, this dare-devil attitude goes pfftt when it comes to my swimming. How I wish I have this confidence when it comes to my hydrophobia. Well, I am a work in progress..........

Death-Saipan Style

The first time I saw the obituary section of the Saipan Tribune, I was shocked. The pictures of those who died were in the notices. It was eerie!

Tita Lee (a Fil-Am who's been in the island for some time) invited me to a rosary one Tuesday evening after office. She usually calls me Bunso (because I was the youngest among us 4 Pinoys in the office).

"Bunso, samahan mo ako sa rosary ng isang customer natin."

Rosary is equivalent to the Pinoy "padasal". It usually lasts for 9 days and ends on the day of the funeral.

The rosary was in Chamorro. An old lady was leading it. It was similar to what we have in the province. An old lady who prays really fast would lead the rosary and would utter all this Latin-sounding words which I think nobody understands anyway.

Although I don't understand Chamorro, the intonation and the way the rosary was done was very similar to the way we do it in the Philippines.

After the rosary, everybody went out in the church and lined-up for dinner in the social hall. As usual, food was abundant or say over-flowing. It was enough to feed the whole island of Saipan for the next 2 days.

I was asking Tita Lee, "Nasaan po yung patay?"

She said, "Nasa freezer ng hospital."

Unlike in the Philippines, the 9-day wake is not practiced here. They say the rosary for the soul of the dead, eat and go home. That is why, there is no sense of grief in the air.

Tita Lee greeted one of the daughters of the dead person and offered her condolences. The daughter said "Thank You" and after listening to few kind words for the dead, she went to other tables to mingle and talk to the other guests.

There were a lot of people and everybody ate to their heart's content. The usual fare of java rice, bread fruit, barbeque, fried chicken, menudo, kaldereta, breaded veggies deep fried in oil, cakes, fruits, sushi, salad and lechon were laid in 5 long tables.

The usual style here in Saipan is to take home food. You line up, get at least 3 paper plates and fill the plate till it overflows. Eat what you can then use the other extra plates to cover the food you will take home. Another way to do it is to get the food you will eat, go to your table, then line up to the buffet table once again and get the food you will take home. This is the reason why Chamorros usually prepare a lot of food during parties and other gatherings.

I remember when I was just new here, one Filipino said, "Alam mo, kung makapal lang ang hiya mo, pwede kang mabuhay dito ng libre. Wala kang gagastusin sa pagkain."

"Paano?"

"Magbasa ka lang ng diyaryo araw-araw. Abangan mo kung sino ang namatay at dun ka makikain."

It would be in bad taste really, but Pinoys can have the most cunning ideas sometimes.

After the 9-day padasal is the viewing period. The funeral services or the embalmer takes out the cadaver from the morgue, prepares the body and the viewing usually takes place in the church before the mass for the dead. (I wonder how a frozen and thawing dead person would look like but I feel too uncomfortable looking at dead people.)

After the Mass is the funeral. Then, another padasal or rosary would take place. The next 9-day padasal would be exclusively for family members and immediate relatives.

My accountant's brain couldn't help but compute the cost of feeding the whole island for 9 straight days. It's like celebrating Fiesta (Feast Day) for 9 days. $1,000 per night would translate to a whopping $9,000 in total. No wonder Chamorros would often take a loan and the purpose would be, funeral expenses.

Attending a rosary made me realize the many similarities between Filipino and Chamorro culture particularly the rosary and the food. The only difference is you would not see the dead person until the viewing time. There are no funeral parlors here wherein the wake takes place. Grief among the people who attend the rosary do not show as much because you can not see the dead anyway.

In the Philippines many dramatic moments (wailing relatives - Bakit mo ako iniwan?") are evoked by a coffin being watched over by relatives. Many family secrets are exposed (dalawa pala ang asawa or may anak pala sa labas) during the wake.

The Chamorro wake or lamay is not overly dramatic. Grief is kept personal and repressed. Maybe it's from their American influences.

Adjusting to the Rhythm of Life in Saipan

When my friends came to visit me last month, I noticed that something has changed in me. I no longer hurry. Deadlines no longer govern my life because deadlines here in Saipan are not really dead lines.

My work starts at 8:30 am. I usually wake up at 7:30am and depending on the kind of sleep I had, I stay in the bed for another 10 minutes or so. I prepare my "baon" (usually a sandwich), take a bath and dress up for work in a span of 30 minutes.

Driving at 35mph, I reach the office in 15 minutes. Breakfast of coffee and sandwich follows and the day starts.

The President drops by in my office and we talk about office issues. Sometimes a little chat about our personal activities, his golf and his daughter, my badminton game and how I am adjusting to life here in Saipan.

My officemates are mostly Chamorros. Their lifestyle is very much different from what I am used to. Their attitude towards work is also unique. They lack the drive to excel. Mediocrity is common. It seems that they just want to get the day over and done with. The way they dress for office is very casual.

They usually chew bettlenut during the day. They take 15 minutes cigarette breaks in the morning and in the afternoon. Lunch break is an hour and is usually availed to the max.

During the week, when they get invited to parties, they go to the office looking wasted and groggy. Clear signs of a terrible hangover from last night's party.

A party here means drinking Bud Light and eating barbeque. Everybody here drinks Bud Light expertly. Even the girls in the office could give the guys a run for their money. Bud Light for them can be likened to Coke or maybe even water. For someone whose beer drinking limit is one bottle, I am a spoilsport.

They always party. I wonder what do they celebrate? They love to just hang out in the beach and drink beer, eat barbeque, play a bit of volleyball and just fool around. Maybe it's the island lifestyle. A lifestyle I have difficulty adapting to. <

/div>

(My fellow contract worker has assimilated himself so well in this kind of lifestyle. An expert drinker (maybe he's an alcoholic too), he could party with the locals and fool around with them. )

My job requires that I check reports and documents prepared by my officemates. I have to validate the entries in the reports. They give me the documents alright. They are fast and I don't have to wait for long. But ask them what the document contains, and you have to wait forever for their answers. They would always say, "Well, this was during X's time." or whoever was in-charge at that point. They couldn't explain the logic of things. There is something awfully missing in their line of reasoning. Call it analytical ability and I observed that very few of them, possess it. I could be wrong but when I talk to fellow Filipinos, their general comment would always be the same as mine. I know it's cruel and I could be charged with racism or something but ask every Pinoy in this island and if that Pinoy is honest enough to admit it, he would agree to my observation.

Living in such a small island and with the mighty Uncle Sam always to the rescue when you screw things up, Chamorros do not have to struggle and strive for the most basic things in life like food, shelter and even education.

The US Federal Government issues food stamps to low-income groups. Shelter could be free (with FEMA assistance during typhoons) and education is patterned after the US Public School System. (Although my impression is that the quality of Public Education here is not comparable to US Mainland standards, but that's another story). The school-bus looks very much like the school bus I see on Holywood movies.

Chamorros are generally fat people. Diabetes is an epidemic here. Since almost everybody has a car (there is no public transport here), people are not forced to walk or move around that much. The Chamorro diet usually consists of meat. A lot of meat. Barbequed ribs. Pork, chicken and beef. They don't have a lot of farmers here. So fresh vegetables and fruits are expensive. Soba or instant noodles is a daily fare. Although they live in an island, there is no commercial fishing here. There is no "palengke" or wet market where you could buy fresh fish and seafood at reasonable prices. There are few stalls that sell fish and seafood but you have to clean them yourself and they are not usually cheap. It's a lot of hassle really.

A typical Chamorro fashion is a duster with flower designs for mature people and cleavage-revealing blouses for the youngsters. Old ladies wear their dusters at Church on Sundays. Their long hair tied to a bun, with a Plumeria flower as accent and on special occasions, a 'mwar-mwar" lie on top of their head like a crown. A mwar-mwar is a crown-like accessory made of local and indigenous flowers like Plumeria (calacuchi) and Hibiscus (gumamela). A Chamorro teen-ager on the other hand would sport a long hair (usually up to their butts) with brown highlights, also tied into a bun and accented by Plumeria or Hibiscus. Their earrings are the huge, round silver type. Their blouses are cleavage-revealing type (which in the Philippines could generate various reactions depending on your body type). Their breasts and "bilbils" seem to scream, "Let me out of here. Damn it!"

They love to wear high-heeled sandals. Their toe-nails badly in need of pedicure and foot spa. Because of the limited inventory of shoes in a handful of shoe stores here in the island, the pair of shoes you wear is the same pair worn by ten other girls you'll meet on the street.

Coming from a country where music is eclectic, Chamorro music is basically a uni-sound. It's cha-cha music. A perfect background music for siesta. Try listening to it on a windy Sunday afternoon after lunch and you will know what I mean. Pinoys dominate the entertainment scene here. The best bands (although if you've seen the best in the Philippines, everything here is mediocre), are of course, you guessed it right - Pinoys!

There is only one movie house here in Saipan - the Hollywood Theater. Movies are mainstream Hollywood and box-office hit Pinoy movies. In the past 7 months, Pinoy movies such as Sukob and You are the One, have been shown here. Art and award-winning films are inexistent. This is the first time in my life wherein I never saw any Oscar nominated film in the theater. Film festivals? Forget it! (My best friend and fellow movie buff just sent me a message that the Spanish Film Festival in ongoing up to October 14 in Greenbelt. I wanted to scream, "Ibalik nyo ako sa Pilipinas!")

Movies cost $4.50 on matinees and $7 on prime-time. The theater is very small and could sit only around a hundred people. The comfort rooms (at least the girls CR) are another revelation. The doors are kindda wrong. You go inside a cubicle and people could see you from the outside because both sides are not secure. The doors are smaller than the area they are supposed to cover. I wonder who designed those doors? Some pervert perhaps? Or some idiot?

But there are things I like in the island. The sight of the beach along the Beach Road is wonderful. Clear blue waters with the calm sky as a backdrop, I experience a zen-like peace when I drive to the office. When the flame trees were in bloom, the bright red-orange colors of its flowers, is also a sight which will forever reside in my memory.

I leave my bag inside my car and it would still be there when I return. An officemate leaves her car doors open and nothing happens to the car. I don't have to open my bag for inspection when I enter a store, or a bank or any office for that matter. Banks here don't even have security guards.

I don't have to hurry everytime because I don't have to allot a certain time for traffic. Everything here in near. Even if you reside from the farthest side of the island, it would still be a breeze to travel from one end to the other end.

Seven months of dealing with the Chamorros, I learned that one should exert an effort to reach their level of thinking. It would require patience to explain transactions to them. And since, patience was never one of my virtues, I am forced to stretch it.

Their lives beat on a rhythm different from mine. I adjust because this island will be my home for the next few months. I study them and watch in fascination how they go about their daily lives. How they deal with the mundane things. I try to see not the differences but the things they have in common with me. I share their humanity and since I am just a visitor in their island, I learn what I can. I've always been interested in other people's culture and I hope that in my dealings with them, they would also see my humanity and in that brief exchange, may we both be enriched by the experience.

Panalangin Kay Sta. Lea

Naisulat ko ang tulang ito noong September 13, 2006. 5 days after watching that strip show in Chicago-2 club. Ang inspiration ko ay iyong isang customer na mukhang construction worker pero parang ang dami-dami nyang perang binibigay dun sa isang stripper. Napaka-galante nya. Si Lea naman ay pangalan ng isang "waitress" na kaibigan ng isang kakilala. She figured out in an accident a few months ago and her spinal cord was damaged. Ang prognosis, baka hindi na sya makalakad pang muli. 18 lang daw sya pero dito sa Saipan maraming menor-de-edad na "waitress" at puro dinaya lang ang edad sa passport. Ayon sa mga balita, nasa isang ospital sa Maynila si Lea at umaabot ng P60T ang bill nya bawat araw. Nung narinig ko ang balita, 2 weeks na sya sa ospital.

Tanggapin mo nawa ang alay ng iyong alipin
Para sa iyong hubad na katawan
Iiipit ko ang nakarolyong dolyar sa pagitan ng iyong mga hita
At basbasan mo nawa ako ng kahit konting himas
Para man lang maibsan ang pangungulila at lungkot sa islang ito
Santa Lea, malugod akong lumalapit sa paanan mo
Buong puso kong ibinibigay ang katas ng aking pawis at dugo
Alam kong sa iyong mga kamay at mga halakhak
Maaabot ko ang langit
Sa limang segundong halik sa pagitan ng iyong mga dibdib
Mabubura ang pagod
Makakalimutan ko ang lungkot
Mairaraos ko ang aking libog
Bukas, magkakaroon ulit ako ng lakas
Para magbungkal ng lupa
At magbuhat ng semento
Sa ilalim ng nakasusunog at mala-impyernong init ng araw dito sa Saipan
Amen.