Mang Ambo and Mang Rocky
Whenever I read articles in some Philippine newspapers(available on line), about migrant Filipinos, I can't help but feel bitter when they are maligned, and somewhat amused when misunderstood by the writers. For the benefit of their readers and in fairness to the subject, I hope these writers would do their homework first before writing a single word of invectiveness or going into a furious monologue of sermon about patriotism and self-sacrifice they say are lacking among the Filipino immigrants. I wish someday they'd meet Mang Ambo and Mang Rocky.
I have known Mang Ambo for several years back in the Philippines where he was a driver and I was in management in the multinational Company we both worked for. He treated me like a son. I left the company to migrate to the United States while mang Ambo stayed till about the mid 90's when he was able to come to the United States a US citizen, a status he gained for having served in the US Armed forces during the second world war.
He lived in a tiny room he shared with Mang Rocky, a fellow veteran. They were both in their seventies. By their looks, I could tell that Mang Rocky is the older of the two. I usually bring pizza or breaded chicken and a six-pack of beer when I come to visit them during late afternoon every other weekend. They will drag their two chairs and a footstool out to the carport where we sit while I listen to them tell me stories of their experiences in the United States, their children and grandchildren, and their exploits in Okinawa. They would show me pictures and letters from home. Listening to them tell their stories complete with actions and funny remarks beat going to the movies any time. I also quickly learned that their goal is to save as much as they could of the pension they get from the US government to send to their families and to someday be able to get everybody back home to America. A typical Filipino migrant's dream.
To save some money, their daily routine included getting up early and visiting institutions in the area that give out free meals, meat, vegetables, dairy products, bread and clothes and try to subsist entirely from these dole out. During special occasions, they treat themselves to a few pounds of pork neck bones (one of the cheapest meat available in the market) for "sinigang". Theirs also is a never ending search for cheap clothes, shoes, can goods and household items from swap meets and thrift stores that they painstakingly collect in balikbayan boxes destined for door to door delivery to their families back home especially during Christmas. Whenever I chance upon good bargain sales at department stores, I would get them each a shirt. And surely, by next weekend, I would see those same shirts neatly tucked, clumsily hidden, underneath the pack of dried noodles in their balikbayan boxes.
Mang Rocky is a little bit sickly. Some mornings, he would fine it difficult to walk because of his gout. Whenever this happens, Mang Ambo goes to pick up things from the mission house for him and later brings him to the county clinic. No matter how I insist that they call me so I could drive them to any place they'd like to go or get them to the clinic when they need to see a doctor, they would tell me that I shouldn't worry, that they'd be fine-they never called.
Nearly a year after I met the duo, just before Christmas, my family went on a month vacation to visit some relatives in Canada.
When we got back from vacation, things got so busy in the office that I didn't get a chance to visit the duo until about three months later. I called the duo's number but just got a recording asking that I leave a message. That happens all the time when I call them on the phone so I just went ahead and bought a six-pack of "San Miguel"beer (no matter what kind of beer I bring, Mang Rocky calls it "San Miguel"), and a shakeys (Mang Ambo calls all pizza "shakeys"). Armed with the San Miguel, shakey, and two pairs of sweaters I bought for them from Canada, I went knocking on the duo's door expecting two happy faces to show up any second. No answer. After some more knocking, the landlord came out to see what was the racket all about. He looked surprised when he saw me.
I learned that Mang Ambo got very sick one day (some old bone injury) and was taken to the hospital and was later sent to a nursing home to recover and sounded like he would be there a while. Mang Rocky moved to another place to join a few other veterans since he couldn't afford to pay the rent by himself. The landlord didn't have any other information.
During the next few days, I searched and contacted all the nursing homes in the area but didn't find Mang Ambo. I started visiting the mission house they go to but I never got a glimpse of neither of them. That has been a while but I am still keeping the Canadian sweaters in case I fine the duo again. I wonder if Mang Rocky was able to get the crib he meant to stuff in the balikbayan box he was preparing for the birth of his sixth great granddaughter and if Mang Ambo's wife finally got her American visa so they could be together.
This weekend I wouldn't be buying San Miguel beer and shakey's pizza - I wish I'd be. But what I really wish is for those two kind people to finally get reunited with their families and get the love, care, and affection they richly deserved in their remaining years.
There are thousands of Filipinos all over the world, young and old, men and women, who are like Mang Ambo and Mang Rocky, giving everything they could and not asking for anything in return. I see a lot of them here, at the supermarket, the mall, church, and at the park in small groups telling their stories, exchanging jokes- struggling so hard to get both ends meet with dignity. I hope their sacrifices are treasured and never forgotten by those they love and care for. Where ever you are now-
Maraming salamat po!
